Emma Miran and South American Horses

Posted on May 15, 2012 by Pat

Warm, dry and windy days marked summers in Bariloche, Argentina. The picturesque ski town at the foot of snowcapped mountains and on the shores of Nahuel Huapi Lake, long ago cut by glaciers, attracted tourists from all over the world. On the southern shores of the lake, Nahuel Huapi National Park encompasses several million acres of wild landscapes within the Patagonian Andes. The town developed into a major international tourist destination during the 1940’s, attracting mountain climbers, skiers or people just looking to relax and enjoy the many restaurants, high-end designer stores, cafés, ice cream and chocolate shops. Scientist also came to conduct research at Centro Atomico Bariloche and Instituto Balseiro in the fields of technology, physical sciences, nuclear and mechanical engineering and physics. The Spanish school, La Montana, located in the center of town, offered Spanish courses and arranged for visiting students to stay with local families. Many young people from all over the world entered the school to improve their Spanish skills and then set out to explore the region.

In January of 2011, Emma waited at Kennedy airport to catch a night flight headed for Bariloche with a stopover in Buenos Aires, Argentina. After saying farewell to Mom, Dad and her favorite Aunt, she boarded the plane and set off on a 6 month adventure in Patagonia and Chile. The plane ride took over 21 hours with two stopovers, including a taxi ride between airports in Buenos Aires. When she finally arrived in Bariloche, Emma had left the frigid winter behind and stepped into a balmy summer evening.

In the following days, Emma enrolled at La Montana, met her new host family and the other students at the language school. After class activities were offered at the school or students were free to explore the region on foot or by bus. A rustic ferry ride crossed the blue waters of Lake Nahuel Huapi and trails lead to glaciers in the Cerro Lopez Mountains.

One afternoon Emma joined several girls and boarded a local bus for a short ride to El Bolson. The town sported a pond with paddle boat rentals and a counterculture craft and farmer’s market established in the 1960’s. Located in a fertile valley tucked away within the Andes and surrounded by small farms, the town had changed little in the past 60 years. The girls walked off the bus and on their way to the outdoor market saw a man standing in the street with a pony. The mini-horse decked out with a saddle and bridle stood motionless next to his owner waiting for customers. The girls were sure that the little horse was a fake; either stuffed or some type of big toy, until the tiny horse turned his head in their direction.

The pleasant summer days passed by and Emma finished school, said good-bye to her host family and friends. She bought a ticket and climbed aboard another bus. The double-decker bus traveled around the shores of Lake Nahuel Huapi towards Chiloe Island. Emma was headed for an organic farm in Chepu located just off the coast of Chile in the Pacific Ocean. For the remaining few months of her stay in South America, Emma planned to be a volunteer on small organic farms as part of the WWOOF organization. WWOOF was established as a worldwide exchange for organic farmers and volunteers. The farmers were provided with labor and the volunteers gained knowledge about organic farming and received room and board.

The bus slowed to a stop at the border crossing between Argentina and Chile. Police officers crowded the gate blocking the road and watched the bus come to a stop. All of the passengers disembarked and retrieved their bags from the storage compartment. Dutifully the travelers stood near the bus with their luggage as policemen with trained dogs walked back and forth looking for illegal drugs and smuggled goods. Without incident, the police signaled the all’s clear and everyone returned to their seats. The bus driver put the vehicle into gear, pulled away from the border crossing and entered Chile.

The modern tour bus let Emma off in Porta Montt; a small, quiet village on the Pacific Ocean. She stayed in a youth hostel for a few days, explored the town and then boarded a local bus to Chiloe Island. The old, dilapidated bus rumbled along the rural roads, crossed the lake by ferry and continued on towards Chepu.

Bus companies in Chile employed a middle-aged bus driver and a young man to take tickets and made sure passengers got off at the right stop. The ticket taker helped travelers with luggage and answered questions. The young man became concerned that Emma didn’t know where she was going.

“Señorita ¿cuál es su destino?” asked the young man.

“Mi destino es Chepu”, replied Emma.

“¿Donde en Chepu?” he asked again.

At this point, Emma could only repeat her answer. The farmer she had communicated with and arranged to work for had simply emailed: ‘Board the bus for Chepu on Chiloe Island. When it’s time for you to get off I’ll stop the bus.’ To make matters more confusing, the ticket taker had a heavy accent and communication was difficult.

Finally, the young man turned to a venerable gentlemen with gray hair known to everyone on the bus and asked, “Señor, ¿sería usted tan amable de hablar con la joven y saber a dónde va?

The older man and Emma spoke for a few minutes, when suddenly the bus pulled over to the side of the road and a Belgium farmer climbed aboard. He stood next to the driver and peered into the dark bus full of people.

“Is Emma Miran here?” said the farmer.

“I’m Emma,” she said rising to her feet.

Jeroen, a short man with curly blonde hair in his 30’s, politely chatted with the elderly gentleman in Spanish, and then took Emma’s bags. They walked the short distance to his farm which rested on a slight knoll overlooking the scenic countryside. Built of huge picture windows, the farmhouse in essences was a glasshouse. Solar panels provided hot water and a huge cast-iron wood burning stove supplied additional heat. The glass windows let in so much sunlight that the Northern windows needed to be draped to lessen the heat. A short hike from the farmhouse stood a smaller building where WWOOF volunteers stayed. When the two reached the worker’s cabin Emma stowed her gear, and they walked back to the farmhouse for dinner.

Emma stepped into Jeroen’s home and immediately was struck by the size of the furniture. An oversized table and chairs created a fairytale quality to the rooms. The table was already set with plates, and silverware neatly engraved with Jeroen’s family name. Freshly baked bread and homemade jams graced the wooden table. The soft-spoken gentleman suggested Emma sit down as he retreated into the kitchen and retrieved the main course. He placed the food on the table and sat down.

“Why did you move to Chiloe Island?” asked Emma.

“It’s a long story. I studied languages in school. The program I enrolled in only graduated a handful of students every year. Although, I speak ten languages and passed all my foreign language exams, I failed my native language and was not chosen to pass the course. After that I entered culinary school and became a chief. I worked for a while then decided to immigrate to Australia as housing prices were extremely high at home. Before I visited Australia, I took a trip to Patagonia and found prices reasonable and fell in love with the countryside. So I purchased land and moved here,” said Jeroen.

“That’s amazing. How did you build the house?” she asked.

“I designed the house and built it with the help of local workmen. I also made all of the furniture,” he replied.

Emma smiled and wondered why all the furniture was so large but didn’t ask. She helped herself to another slice of bread.

“The bread is very good if you put a slice of cheese on it with jam,” he said passing her a bowl filled with jam.

She sliced the cheese, placed it on the bread and smeared strawberry jam on top. “Yum, this is delicious,” she said.

“Thank you, I bake bread every morning and make my own jam. The cheese is made on a neighboring farm,” he replied.

Emma worked in the fields harvesting potatoes, in large containers she planted fruit tree seeds and collected seeds from plants. Jeroen operated his farm as a minimalist; there were no animals and few crops. Like a modern day Johnny Appleseed, he planted trees and collected seeds. A few days after Emma arrived, another WWOOFer joined her. The two women worked all day in the fields and in the evening joined Jeroen for dinner.

One evening at dinner Jeroen said, “I suggest that on the weekend volunteers leave the farm and explore the local countryside. There are many interesting places to visit.”

“Where do you suggest?” asked Sarah.

“I always send people to a local bed and breakfast not far from here. They have horses and you can take a ride to the beach,” he replied.

The young women threw a few things into their backpacks, boarded a dilapidated local bus and arrived at Los Senderos de Chepu. The rustic bed and breakfast was situated on a hill with views of the Pacific Ocean in the distance. Senora Enriqueta and Don Fernando, the owners, warmly greeted Emma and Sarah. Although they spoke little English, the owners were very friendly and welcoming. Emma and Sarah enjoyed the delicious meals and visited a neighboring farm which sold homemade organic cheese. The next day Don Fernando suggested the women take a half-day trip by horseback to the beach.

Fernando brought the small horses from their pasture and saddled them. The women came down from the house, ready to ride. Emma had ridden horses before, but for Sarah this was her first time.

“Emma your horse is the smallest, only 13.2 hands. Sarah’s horse doesn’t like your horse and will kick if you ride too close. Be careful and don’t fall off,” said Fernando.

“Don’t worry I won’t fall off,” said Emma.

The three riders headed for the beach. The horses slowly walked down the dirt road, with Sarah’s horse lagging behind.

“Give him a kick,” called Fernando.

Grey clouds overcast the sky. The dirt road turned into sandy dunes which lead to a small river about 3 feet deep. The river led to the beach. When the horses reached the river, they prepared to cross.

“Take your feet out of the stirrups when you enter the river. The water is deep,” said Fernando.

The horses crossed the river easily and made their way onto a beach dotted with towering rocks crowned with vegetation. They galloped through the surf passing fisherman with long poles, until the horses stopped. The riders dismounted and walked on foot taking photos. Sarah was glad to be on solid ground as she didn’t feel comfortable going so fast on horseback.

The time came to return home and Fernando decided to take a shortcut across a cow pasture. As soon as Emma’s horse saw the cows, the mare tried to circle and chase the cattle. Emma managed to stop the little white horse from running after the cows when suddenly a young pinto horse appeared. The yearling ran up to Emma’s horse and began following her. Sarah’s horse took an immediate dislike to the young horse and tried to kick him. Fernando and Emma took their whips to the animal trying to drive him off, but it didn’t work. The horse trailed behind trying to stay close to Emma’s horse, intent on following them home. Suddenly, Emma’s horse took off at a dead run up a long hill leaving the other two horses far behind. Perhaps she could outrun the horse. However that wasn’t the case, the yearling simply ran alongside the little white horse until the trio arrived at the bed and breakfast and stopped. Emma gave up trying to get rid of the little pinto yearling and let her horse eat the grass until Fernando and Sarah caught up with her.

“You are a good horsewoman,” said Fernando.

Suddenly, the clouds opened up and a heavy rain fell. The yearling disappeared as quickly as he had appeared, and the riders dismounted. Fernando took the horses and Emma and Sarah returned to the house.

The next morning, Sarah and Emma decided to visit the other end of Chiloe Island and stay in a local youth hostel. A friend of Enriqueta and Fernando stopped by after breakfast and offered the girls a ride in his truck.

“Can we pay you for the trip?” asked Sarah.

“No, there is no need to,” he said.

“We should give you something,” said Emma.

“Well, you can give me just one American dollar. My daughter would like to see it,” he replied.

Sarah and Emma’s stay at the youth hostel was uneventful. They sat in the hostel’s common room as the afternoon turned into evening. The women began to wonder how they would get back to the farm for another week of work. The conversation turned to their wild horse adventure, when suddenly; they heard a familiar voice coming from the laundry room. A few moments later, Jeroen walked into the room.

“How was the bed and breakfast?” asked Jeroen.

“I didn’t really enjoy the horses. I’ve never ridden before and the ride was a little scary,” replied Sarah.

“Did anyone fall off?” asked Jeroen.

“No, but I could have,” replied Sarah.

“That’s good to know. The last person I sent up there fell off the horse. Next time I’ll make sure I only send experienced riders,” said Jeroen.

“Why are you here?” asked Emma.

“I’m friends with the owner and always do my laundry on Sunday afternoons here,” replied Jeroen.

It wasn’t long before the three traveled back to the farm in Jeroen’s jeep. The weekend adventures came to a close. Sarah and Emma stayed on Chiloe Island for a week and then headed north to another farm in Chile.

Sources:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/San_Carlos_de_Bariloche; http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chilo%C3%A9_Island; http://wwoof.org/

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Riding Season Begins at Ballentine’s Horse Heaven

Posted on May 5, 2012 by Pat

My late evening ride through Round Top park reverberated with periodic drumming produced by woodpeckers searching for grubs in dead trees. A golden sun cast long slender shadows across open woodlands illuminating a few patches of green grass surrounded by old leaves. Tender new buds just beginning to unfold sprouted from tree branches and random dogwoods offered a spray of white flowers which seemed to dance among maples and oaks.

Pepper trotted up West Park road to a baseball field dotted with domed two man tents. A few Boy Scouts worked on raising their tents as others settled in for the night. Several scouts hurried over to see Pepper. After a greeting and exchanging a few words, Pepper and I headed towards the pond following power line poles. Not far up an access road sat a huge porcupine. The animal saw Pepper, turned, faced us and rose up on his back legs. He tucked in his front legs and sharp quills trembled on his back. For a brief moment Pepper looked at the creature, then continued to walk forward as the porcupine hurried for cover under dense undergrowth. It wasn’t long before I unsaddled Pepper. The evening sun ducked behind soft, blue mountains and twilight deepened shadows threatening total darkness.

Warm spring days brought people to Ballentine’s Horse Heaven to ride. Cristina came to learn basic horsemanship. She leased Johnn’s horse, Sam, a few weeks ago. Sam, an amenable Belgium, stood patiently as she brushed and saddled him; although, once outside couldn’t resist nibbling the rich green grass.

Early Monday morning, Anne Shaffer and Donna Horton came to Horse Heaven to meet with farrier, Kenny Bellis. Shadow and Socks needed to be shod for riding season. Socks received a new pair of steel shoes and quietly returned to his stall. Anne brought Shadow into an open area in front of the barn doors, for now it was his turn. Donna sat down on a grain barrel to watch. Suddenly Shadow reared straight up not wanting any part of what Kenny had to offer in the way of shoes. Donna jumped out of the way and decided it was time to head back to work.

My SUV bumped along Murray Creek road. Just before I reached the barn, Donna’s car pulled onto the lane. She steered her car towards Athens but stopped when she saw me and rolled down the window.

“I’ve got to go back to work, but we’ll ride together soon,” she said smiling.

“Sounds good to me,” I replied.

I pulled my vehicle in front of the barn and grabbed my tack from where it sat on the rear seat. Kenny already had a shoe on Shadow’s back hoof. He reached down to pick up the other hoof when I came over to watch. It wasn’t long before Shadow had his trim, new shoes and nails crimped.

“How long have you been a farrier,” I asked.

“19 years,” replied Kenny returning his equipment to the back of a mini-van.

“Mainly in the Valley?” I asked.

“Well actually I travel all over ….every 8 weeks I go to Tennessee,” replied Kenny smiling.

“Tennessee, isn’t that far to go to shoe horses?” I asked.

“About 700 miles one way….a few years ago some people from here moved to Athens, Tennessee. They asked me to come down and take care of their horses. It wasn’t long before their neighbors wanted me to shoe their horses too. So now, I travel down there every 8 weeks,” replied Kenny.

Kenny finished packing up his files, horseshoes and tool box. He turned out of the driveway headed for another barn and another job. Anne brushed Shadow and began saddling up for our morning ride while I hurried into the pasture, halter in hand, looking for Pepper. The horse picked up her head as I drew near and waited for me to slip on the halter. By the time Pepper and I arrived back at the barn, Anne and Shadow were ready to go.

Anne and I rode up Oakfield Drive past Johnn’s hayfield towards a huge barn on top of the hill. At Highland Drive we turned and galloped the horses to the top of another hill, where we reined in our mounts anticipating a steep slope on the other side of the rise. We turned left onto Meadowlack Drive. The gravel road twisted through tranquil countryside until it reached a farm. A red dairy barn sat a few feet from the road with a farmhouse directly across the lane. Here our horses hesitated, not wanting to pass a long line of black water troughs nestled next to a wire fence. Once we traveled away from the farm our horses settled down and we picked up another segment of Highland Drive. The street meandered along a mountain creek lined with evergreens and grey slate rocks stained by moss. Highland Drive ended at a stop sign. We turned Shadow and Pepper onto Mile Lane and shortly picked up Tutelow Creek road. Near the intersection of Tutelow Creek and Mile Lane a backhoe blocked our way. Two men worked positioning a drainage pipe into rocky ground near a stream. When the work crew saw us, the backhoe driver pulled his vehicle out of the road and turned off his engine for us to pass by.

“…A problem with the road?” I asked pausing a moment, letting Pepper relax next to the massive earthmoving equipment.

“Damage from the flood,” he replied.

“So much destruction,” I said.

Shadow and Pepper headed towards home. Tutelow Creek road forked and we took Dunkley Hill road which branched off to the left. A Croft delivery truck rumbled down the street towards us. I decided to hang back near the fork in the road until the truck passed. After the truck disappeared around a bend in the road Pepper trotted to catch-up with Shadow, and then the horses cantered up a long hill. At Beaver Pond road we turned right and traveled until we picked up Murry Creek road.

We had ridden in a full circle and came back to Horse Heaven. All of Shadow’s shoes still gripped his hooves. His new horseshoes didn’t give him any discomfort. Thanks to Kenny, Shadow was officially ready for riding season.

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Pegasus the Winged Horse

Posted on April 28, 2012 by Pat

For thousands of years, stories about horses have circulated among people and between cultures. There have been true and fictional stories of racehorses, faithful horses, ordinary horses, war horses and mythical horses. Perhaps one of the strangest and oldest stories concerning a horse is Pegasus, a mythical horse, created by the ancient Greeks.

Pegasus’s mother, Medusa, angered Athena by claiming that the goddess was jealous of her beauty. Another version of the tale equates Athena’s rage to Medusa having sexual relations with the god Poseidon in Athena’s temple. Whichever is the case; Athena punished Medusa by turning her into a hideous winged creature with snakes for hair. And if that wasn’t enough for good measure, the goddess cursed her so that anyone looking upon Medusa would be turned to stone.

There are several versions of how Pegasus’s father, Poseidon the god of horses and the sea, impregnated Medusa. Either by turning himself into a horse or a bird, Poseidon fathered the twins; Pegasus and Chrysasor. Of course, Pegasus’s birth wasn’t at all ordinary either. Pegasus’s life begins with a tale of maternal death and defeat.

The heroic task of killing Medusa fell upon Perseus. Several gods helped Perseus by giving him magical weapons; a bronze shield which functioned as a mirror, an unbreakable sword, winged sandals, and a helmet which turned him invisible. When he beheaded the pregnant Medusa, blood gushed out of the creature’s neck, and from the blood sprang forth a boy, Chrysasor, and the winged horse Pegasus.

Now that the winged horse was alive and kicking, it was time for some adventures. The most famous tales concerned his rider, Bellerophon. Again, Athena comes into the picture giving Bellerophon a magic bite or bridle to tame the spirited horse. She also suggested the hero sacrifice a white bull to the horse’s father Poseidon to seal the deal. In any case, Bellerophon captures Pegasus and rides off to slay fire-breathing Chimaera.

Bellerophon made a cardinal mistake when he decided to ride Pegasus to Olympus. He believed because of his triumph over the evil Chimaera, he deserved to fly to the realm of the gods. Pegasus with Bellerophon on his back headed towards the heavens, however, the hero never made it. Zeus in his fury sent a gad-fly to bite the horse causing Pegasus to buck off his rider. Bellerophon fell back to earth; some say to his death others that the hero wandered aimlessly as a blind hermit. In any case, Pegasus continued the flight and made it to Mount Olympus.

At Olympus, Pegasus joined Zeus’s stables becoming the mount of Eos, goddess of the dawn and Apollo, god of light and the sun. The horse served Zeus by carrying the thunder and lightning needed to make thunderbolts. Finally, Pegasus earned a place in the heavens as one of the constellations.

Perhaps fact is stranger than fiction, but in this case the Greek myth of Pegasus, the flying horse, has to be the most imaginative story I’ve ever heard. Philosophers, psychologist and scholars have had a heyday with the myth finding hidden meanings behind the story. They’ve had a long time to analyze it. Perhaps after all is said, the myth is just an extremely entertaining story which has been around for a very, very long time.

Sources:
http://www.theoi.com/Ther/HipposPegasos.html, http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pegasus

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The Safe Way to Tie Up a Horse

Posted on April 21, 2012 by Pat



There comes a time when a horse needs to be tied up, whether to momentarily restrain the horse while saddling up or leaving the horse hitched while pursuing some other activity. It’s good to know a few safety knots commonly used for tying up a horse. Most of the knots are based on the slipknot, which is probably the easiest knot to tie. The above videos teach the slipknot, slipknot with half-hitch, quick release knot, and the bank robber’s knot. All good knots to know when working around horses.

Old dried out ropes are not recommended for tying up a horse. The stiff leather or rope doesn’t provide sufficient flexibility and prevents the knot from quickly releasing when pulled. Instead find a flexible lead rope which offers less resistance yet ties securely.

Even the “kid safe” horse at times may become frightened, spook or do the unexpected; therefore, the safety knot provides a fast release in such a situation. If the horse rears back suddenly, a quick release knot can prevent serious injury to the horse’s head and neck. It’s always good to remember that the horse is a prey animal and in some situations will feel the need for immediate escape, even though to us the situation may seem silly, to the horse it’s pure instinct.

Fortunately, I’ve never experienced a serious problem while hitching up a horse. I did experience a minor problem when trying to tie CJ to the outside hitching ring in order to saddle and clean his feet. He felt uncomfortable, restless and nervous. I finally decided saddling, grooming and cleaning his feet were easier in his stall than outside where he was scared. Even though I don’t tie him in the stall, I do slip the lead rope through the metal bars of the hay rack when I saddle or pick out his feet. CJ doesn’t care for the girth and on occasion has tried to nip me. If he decides to reach towards me for a little nip all I have to do is gently pull the rope and continue securing the girth. The same thing works pretty well for cleaning his hooves. Instead of CJ dancing around his stall and pulling away from me, one easy pull on the rope tells him to stay put. The rope through the hay rack allows me to decide how much head room he is going to have without having to totally restrain the horse.

The horse’s bridle is not meant for tying up the animal. There are basically two reasons for this. First, if the tied animal pulls back the bit may cause pain or injury to the horse’s mouth. Second the bridle and reins are made of thin leather which easily breaks under pressure. If a horse needs to be tied up while bridled put a halter on over the bridle and tie the horse using the halter and a lead rope.

Some trail riders ride with a halter and a bridle. When the rider dismounts to take a break on a long ride, he/she can easily tie up their horse. I have ridden with both a halter and bridle; usually the halter is placed under the bridle. When I rode this way it was mainly for extra leverage with a green broke horse. I have never been on a trail ride where I found it necessary to tie up my horse, however, for those who plan to picnic, go fishing or camp, putting on the halter seems like an excellent idea.

There are lots of interesting knots to learn and I’m sure there must be others used to tie up a horse; these are the basic knots. As with everything concerning horses, what seems simple in reality isn’t so the more you know the better. Happy trails to everyone, have fun and be safe.

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Karen Sykas’s Experiences with Horses

Posted on April 11, 2012 by Pat

Watchung Reservation, a county park located in Union County, NJ, derived its name from the Lenni Lenape Indian word “Wachunk” meaning “high hills”. The park encompasses woodlands, open fields, lakes, streams, picnic areas, nature center, historic village, riding stables, and miles upon miles of bridle and hiking trails. Created in the 1920’s by the local community in order to preserve the area’s natural beauty, the park offers people easy access to the outdoors, including horseback riding, golfing, fishing, picnicking and hiking.

Watchung Stables, located within the Reservation and owned by the county since 1933, has provided an opportunity for all people to learn how to ride, improve equestrian skills or simply enjoy the 26 miles of bridle trails which wander through the park’s 2,000 acre forest. In 1957, the stables burnt to the ground and operated out of tents for a year until the barns and arenas were rebuilt. Plans were laid in the mid-1970’s to extend Interstate 78 through the Watchung Reservation and the stables. Environmentalist and residents opposed construction of the highway. Concessions were made, the stables relocated in 1985 to the former NIKE missile site within the Reservation, and finally the Watchung portion of I-78 opened in 1986. Currently, Watchung Stables maintains a horse barn capable of stabling 99 horses, 4 riding rings, show ring, outside hunter course and an equestrian summer camp for kids ages 9 through 17.

Years ago, a young 12 year old named Karen Walsh decided horses needed to be part of her life and it was her good luck that her parents agreed. Her parents decided Watchung Stables would provide their daughter with an affordable and excellent introduction to horsemanship. And as luck would have it, the stable was located just up the road from their home. Karen began English riding lessons, and it wasn’t long before she was entering Hunter Jumping events at the many horse shows put on by Watchung and other stables in the area. Sometimes mounted troopers rode at the stables and the young girl watched the police horses execute their rider’s commands. At other times, Karen enjoyed the solitude of riding for miles on trails through the forests of Watchung Reservation.

A few years later, Karen went to summer camp for several weeks at Four Seasons Horse Farm, a private stables not far from Watchung. At Four Seasons, Karen focused on improving her seat, perfecting her equestrian skills, and expanding her knowledge of how to set the horse up for a jump. The teenager rode with other girls who shared the love of horses and dreamed of winning at horse shows.

As it always seems to happen after taking lessons for a period of time and moving up through the ranks of young riders, a day comes when every experienced horseback rider needs a horse of their own. That day came for Karen when she turned 16 and became the proud owner of a 4 year old gelding named My Guy. Her new horse was not experienced in jumping so it became Karen’s job to show him the ropes. Karen soon found the horse could jump anything she tried. Even if she didn’t get him into the jump the right way, My Guy still flew over the fences. The jumps were picked up higher and higher until during a jump off at a show, the horse and rider cleared 5.6 feet.

Karen boarded My Guy at Hilltop Stables owned by Clarence Nagro and his daughter, Sandra Lobel. She continued to ride in horse shows at Hilltop, Watchung, Fox Chase and Spring Valley for trophies and ribbons. Sometimes she won and brought home the trophy and hung the ribbons in her room. The shows were governed by the rules from the American Horse Shows Association. The young riders, under the age of 18, racked up points to qualify for the ASPCA Maclay classes at the National Horse Show held at Madison Square Garden once a year.

The ASPCA Maclay was established in 1933 by Alfred B. Maclay, an ASPCA board member and president of the National Horse Show. The competition has been called the “proving ground of champions”. Many of the winners at the Maclay have gone on to compete in the Olympics with the US Equestrian Team.

Besides trail riding and horse shows, Karen rode in a couple of fox hunts in Spring Valley organized by Hilltop Stables. The sound of the hunting horn rang out on a beautiful fall day to begin the hunt. Clarence Nagro, the Master of the Hunt and an ex-steeplechaser/jockey, had the final say over all matters in the field. Of course the hounds were looked after by a kennel-man or huntsman and a whipper-in who prevented the dogs from straying. The hunt was a drag hunt, so no live fox was involved, instead a gunny sack filled with the scent of an animal was “dragged” across the field for the dogs to track. The rider needed to be prepared to jump anything in the field including fences, ditches or other obstacles.

A recession hit the country in the early 70’s creating financial problems for many people across the nation. At the time Karen had just graduated from high school and decided to take a job at a stable not far from Hilltop. My Guy was put up for sale and an older woman at Hilltop Stables purchased him to use as a jumper. Karen moved into a room at ABS Farm owned by Sandra Lobel. The days were long, about 10 hours each and never ending, that’s to say she worked 7 days a week.

Her duties were varied, from cleaning stalls, turning out the retired thoroughbred stallions, helping with lesson horses that were misbehaving, grooming, feeding and watering horses. During the NY State Fair held in Syracuse, Karen groomed and generally helped out. Sandra breed racehorses and that year didn’t get the price she wanted at auction for two of her yearlings. Karen helped teach the young horses ground manners and assisted in breaking them to ride, which included racing the thoroughbreds on a quarter mile track at the stables.

After about a year working in the stables, Karen decided it was time to move on. There was no future working there. She didn’t see herself as a riding instructor or the possibility of owning her own stables. As so many young women discover, horses don’t easily make the transition to adult life. Karen felt she would never own or be around horses again.

A few other problems haunted horse country in those days. Shortly after Karen arrived at ABS Farms a fire broke out at Hilltop Stables destroying the facility and killing My Guy. Another fire burned ABS Farms shortly after Karen left and several other stables had problems with fire. The cause for the fires was never discovered but some felt an arsonist may have been loose in the county.

Karen married, changed her last name to Sykas, began a career, had children and moved to Warren Center, PA. Suddenly, horses were in the picture again. She purchased Lexis and Leo, both Quarter Horses. Her daughter, Helena, took a few lessons at Ballentine’s Horse Heaven from Sandy Mack and when Sandy left for Minnesota, Karen was given a black pony named Misty. Sometime later, Helena lost interest in the pony, and Misty was given to another young girl in the neighborhood. A few years passed by and Karen bought a yearling name CD from her vet Robin Rogers.

Everything seemed to be running smoothly until Karen divorced and needed to sell her horses. Luckily, her sister, Dorren Deel, purchased CD and Leo and moved them to her ranch in Virginia. By that time, Lexis was lame, and the mare was given to a friend as a pasture buddy. Again, Karen thought horses would never again be a part of her life, until her friend Pam moved a horse to Ballentine’s Horse Heaven. Connie had a Quarter Horse name Jupiter to lease and Karen thought ‘why not’.

I met Karen in the spring of 2010 and have enjoyed riding with her ever since. Life holds for all of us many turns and twists. However, it seems that once you’re bitten by the horse bug, it’s sure hard to get horses out of your system. I have a feeling Karen will have many happy horse adventures for years to come.

Footnote concerning Watchung Stables: Recently, the stables has been experiencing difficulty and there is talk that the county is considering privatizing the stables. This would bring to an end the wonderful and unique opportunity youngsters in the county have had throughout the years. The idea of a stable which brings the joy of horseback riding to the public at nominal costs would end. If you are interested in finding out more about what’s going on at Watchung click here: http://www.nj.com/independentpress/index.ssf/2010/02/union_countys_plans_to_privati.html Show your support by joining the Facebook group to save the county stable at: http://www.facebook.com/group.php?gid=240884903738&ref=mf

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Log Pulling at Carriage House Saddlery

Posted on March 29, 2012 by Pat

Teams of draft horses in full harness and spectators enjoyed the balmy weather as they stood in an open field just outside Trumansburg, NY. The log pulling event hosted by Carriage House Saddlery was well underway as I pulled my car off the road and parked. Log pulling began at 10 o’clock, so I missed the early action; however, there were still many teams waiting to perform the double skidding and European style log pulling. One team at a time performed. I watched a pair of Belgian’s complete the double skidding event. The horses wove through a series of poles dragging a heavy log. At the last pole, the horses turned and waited for the driver to fasten another log. Now they were ready to weave back through the poles as fast as possible without knocking any over, which completed the course.

Allie Taisey and her young horse Diesel stood near the parking lot taking a break. Diesel didn’t look like the typical draft horse, in fact, he reminded me of CJ. I walked over to Allie and her spotted horse and discovered that Diesel was a 6 year old gelding, ½ Quarter Horse – ½ Paint cross.

“How long has he been pulling?” I asked.

“About 4 or 5 times since January, this is a learning opportunity for Diesel. We have tried to start him under saddle a few times without success. He was about to be shipped off to the glue factory but he’s just too sweet a horse for that. So I’ve been working with him. I’m trying to get him to respond to commands on the ground through driving. Log pulling is a great opportunity for that,” said Allie.

“How did he do?” I asked.

“He did really well for his first time. He zigzagged between the parallel poles, knocking down a couple. On the log pulling he just pulled one log. That was about all he could pull as each log weighs about 800 pounds, but that was ok since we’re not here to really compete just get experience and support from the other people. It’s a great place to learn, everyone is knowledgeable and helpful. In the summer we’ll send Diesel to work with Greg Eliel. He uses the natural horsemanship method of training. After Diesel’s training, I’ll work with him,” said Allie.

“You’ll ride him Western?” I asked.

“I have a dressage saddle so that’s what I’ll ride him with,” replied Allie.

“Good luck with Diesel and his training. I’m going to check out some of the other teams,” I said heading for a crowd near the concession stand.

A wooden pavilion built on raised decking provided a comfortable retreat from the hot sun. At the food concession, I met Vivien Surman, a small animal vet and co-owner of Carriage House Saddlery. Vivien and her husband, Jim Wilkins, started Carriage House Saddlery in 2005 in anticipation of retirement. They felt the horses and saddlery shop would provide an enjoyable business in their golden years. Besides the shop, they own drafts horses, Warm Bloods, Quarter Horses, ponies, a Paint stallion, and a min donkey.

“I’ve seen draft horses plow. Near where I live, the Endless Mountain Draft Horse Club puts on two events every year, Corn Days and Plow Days, but I’ve never seen log pulling. Why did you decide to host log pulling events,” I asked Vivien.

“My husband Jim is a forester and uses draft horses to log. Our farrier, Ke Smith, also logs on his farm with draft horses. One day the two got talking and thought it would be a good idea to have a log pulling contest. They contacted the NY State Draft Horse Club which puts on ice harvesting and haymaking events but the club didn’t want to be involved with log pulling. They also contacted the Interlaken Historical Society with the idea that they might be interested in log pulling as part of their old-fashioned fair, but again they weren’t interested. So, we decided to host the event ourselves,” said Vivian.

“How long have you been hosting the event?”

“This is our 3rd year. The first was a beautiful day with 2 feet of snow on the ground. A hundred spectators came to watch and approximately 20 teams pulled through the snow,” said Vivian.

“Was it hard for the horses because of the snow?” I asked.

“It’s normal for logging to be done in the snow. Two seasons are good for logging; winter when the ground is frozen or summer when everything is dry. Too much mud in the spring makes pulling the logs hard for the horses and the environment,” said Vivien.

“And how did the second year go?” I asked.

“The second year was a bit muddy. We had fewer spectators because it was a very cold and dreary day. This year the spectators are back and the day is absolutely beautiful. There is a bit of mud, but it really isn’t too bad,” said Vivien.

“How do the events work?” I said.

“There are two events. Double skid which is a slalom like event where the horse pulls a log between poles and a European style log pull which involves the horses pulling up to four logs. The first event mimics the horse weaving through the woods down a logging trail through trees. The second event, European style log pull, is not solely based on strength, but how well the horses behave, how steady the horses are and how well they follow commands and wait to be hooked up to the logs. The teams that are quiet, orderly, and well mannered, will be able to work in the woods where the horses need to be calm, otherwise when the team goes through the forest the logs may be damaged and the horses injuried,” said Vivien.

The environmental advantages of logging with horses are many. Horses do not destroy young trees or create erosion problems like mechanized logging equipment. The horses are able to enter areas where mechanized vehicles are unable to penetrate. As a result, many landowners and loggers have returned to using horses to extract timber from the woods.

Any type of horse may be used for logging; however, size limits the weight the horse will be able to pull. In some areas oxen and mules are used to skid logs out of woodlots and forests. Generally, a two horse team is used, but one horse may be preferable in tight areas. Loggers using horses generally favor the skid distance to be no greater than 1,500 feet to the landing where logs are loaded onto a truck. A greater distance means that it will take more time for the horses to return to the woods for another log. Hillsides create additional risks and require well trained animals. Great care must be used when teams pull downhill to prevent logs from over running the horse and handler. The skid trail needs to be cleared of objects, such as slippery rocks which may cause the logs to slip and slide into the horse. Also, slick ice conditions may cause similar problems.

Draft horse teams patiently waited their turn on the sidelines and peopled chatted as they watched the horses compete. The next person I met was a friend of Allie’s. She walked behind a bay horse in full harness. Rigby, a Spotted Draft/Quarter Horse/Mustang cross, stood quietly near the staging area. Kristy Boys from Richford, NY brought her 4 ½ year old gelding to the logging event so Rigby could gain experience and be around the other horses.

“How long have you been driving?” I asked Kristy.

“About 5 years, I feel it’s important to explore all aspects of horsemanship including driving and pulling,” she said.

“Do you enjoy it?” I asked.

“I love it. I think it is an important way to supplement our oil habit with horse power. On our hobby farm we have done some logging. Last year, the horse pulled 30 foot long sapling poles, which we used as supports for beans. This summer we plan to try plowing to prepare the ground for our potato crop. Another possibility with driving is skijoring,” she replied.

“That’s fascinating, my son and I would like to do that. Have you tried it yet?” I asked.

“Just once with Diesel, we hooked him up and a friend that skis came down. I hopped on the back of his skis, but we didn’t have a good harness. If I can get the right harness, I’m going to try skijoring next winter. The Europeans are really into it. Skijoring is all over YouTube.” she replied.

Ben Jantzen and his team of Clydesdales, Elisa and Jonah, waited to compete in the 4 log pulling event. He came down from Odessa to participate in the day’s events. During high school, Ben owned a saddle horse but now works exclusively with draft horses. When he married, a Vis-a-Vis carriage and driver were hired for the occasion. Ben wound up purchasing the carriage and now has a part-time business doing weddings.

In the 1940’s, Ben’s grandfather began a garbage hauling business with his Clydesdales as a way to earn money for college. He charged 25 cents a trash can. The cans were put on the back of a wagon, taken to the dump and then returned to their owners. Draft horses have been a part of the family farm ever since.

A handsome team of Belgians stood nearby waiting to compete. Dan Doyle and his team, Kate and Doc, walked towards the starting point for the event. I watched with his daughter Jen as he hitched up the chains to the first log.

“Have the horses pulled logs before,” I asked Jen.

“This is their first time. My dad has run a hobby farm for the past 20 years. He uses the horses for bobsled and hay rides. This is the first time he’s tried pulling logs with them,” she replied.

Suddenly, Dan’s team jumped a little too fast trying to pull 3 logs. The logs scattered in odd directions and jammed. Two men with long hooked poles helped move the logs as Dan steadied the horses and Jen helped. Once the jam was fixed the horses went on to finish the course.

Dan’s team was one of the last to perform. The log pulling event at Carriage House Saddlery came towards closing. The day was still radiant, not a cloud in the sky, when I packed up my belongings and headed toward Ithaca and home. It wouldn’t be long before the horses were loaded into their trailers for their trip back to the barn.

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Ponies at Bradford County Humane Society Shelter

Posted on March 22, 2012 by Pat

The 10 o’clock sun shone through mist tinting the countryside with a bluish hue. The car’s engine hummed along Route 220, winding through the mountains, passed railroad tracks and farms. I drove towards the Bradford County Humane Society just north of Ulster to meet with Ann Shaffer. Recently, three ponies were rescued from a greenhouse and I was on my way to see them.

I pulled the car into the driveway and parked by the outdoor dog kennels. All the dogs started barking as soon as they heard my footsteps. A couple of elderly women also headed for the front door, and the three of us entered together. Ann stood in the office behind the front desk with a clipboard and pen completing routine paperwork.

“Hi, I just need to complete this form and I’ll show you the ponies,” she said.

“Okay,” I replied.

We walked around the outside of the building to a chain link enclosure directly behind the shelter. At the far end of the small pasture stood a covered equine run in, which provided a safe place for the ponies during inclement weather. Ann entered the pasture and attempted to catch a mini horse named Spit Fire.

“He’s hard to catch,” said Ann reaching for some grass to entice the little stallion.

“He’s shy,” I replied.

“They are all in sorry shape. Misty, a little palomino mare, is the shyest. She pretty much keeps to herself. Princess only has one eye but is friendly,” said Ann pointing to a brown mare walking toward her.

“That’s too bad she lost her eye. I wonder how that happened.” I replied.

“We’re not sure,” answered Ann.

Princess walked up to Spit Fire and stood next to him as Ann snapped a lead rope to his halter. The brown pony gently nuzzled the little stallion. Her leathery socket hid the atrophied remains of the injured eye. A short time later, Misty, the little palomino came and stood next to her pasture mates. All of the pony’s hooves were long, curling slightly at the end and badly in need of a trim.

“I have to go back inside but Becky will help you,” said Ann as a young woman walked towards us.

“All right,” I turned towards Becky and asked, “How long have you been working here?”

“About 4 months,” replied Becky taking Spit Fire’s lead rope from Ann.

The ponies were rescued from a residency which kept the animals in a greenhouse meant to grow flowers, not stable horses. The greenhouse had a cement floor, broken glass, and unsanitary conditions. Humane Officer, Laura Hawbaker, requested a court order to remove the animals because of the unhealthy environment and general poor health of the ponies. In the weeks to come a court hearing will convene to decide the fate of the animals. A judge will listen to both sides of the complaint and make a decision. The case may go one of two ways. The Humane Society may be given the ponies, in which case, the animals have a chance for a new home or the ponies may be returned to the owner, usually with the stipulation that the unhealthy conditions the animals were found in are corrected.

I left the pasture and found Ann busy in the front office helping a middle-aged man adopt a dog. The shelter filled with people. They stopped in front of the wire cages, peered in and looked over the stray and abandoned dogs. I said farewell to Ann, returned to my car and headed for home. It will be several weeks before the Judge reaches a decision; in the meantime, the ponies are safe at the Bradford County Humane Society Animal Shelter in Ulster, PA.

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Roxy the Neighborhood Goat

Posted on March 12, 2012 by Pat

By the time we arrived at the stables the temperature had reached the mid 50’s. The grey sky didn’t deter us since for mid February it was a beautiful day. Emma and I rode through the park taking the usually route. As we swung towards home down Weaver Road near the Slocum place, the familiar bleating of their goat floated on the air. CJ sidestepped away from the fence and swung his head around looking for the goat. Pepper picked up her pace with keen interest on locating Roxy. It wasn’t long before both horses knew exactly where the goat was.

As soon as Roxy saw us, she trotted out of her pasture and came alongside Pepper. Swiftly, the goat ran in front of the horse. Once Roxy blocked Pepper’s escape, the goat repeatedly stuck out her tongue, spat and tried to lick the horse’s leg. Pepper arched her neck, looked the goat square in the eye and quickly stepped aside, urgently trying to evade the intruder. CJ stopped dead in his tracks, but with some encouragement from me moved forward. As we gained ground on Roxy, CJ tried to dodge the goat with a mad dash around her, but I pulled hard on one rein bringing the horse’s head in line with his shoulder, not allowing him to bolt.

In the mean time, Emma and Pepper were trying their own avoidance ploy. Roxie kept trying to block Pepper’s way by trotting in front of the horse and stopping. Pepper struck out with her front leg in a threatening motion. She laid back her ears and threatened to bite the goat as Emma reined the horse in. From where I sat on CJ, it looked like Pepper was too afraid to get close to Roxy so all Pepper could do was made a funny threatening hop which Roxy paid no attention to. Pepper lifted her back leg to kick the goat but again she wasn’t close enough. Roxy stayed near Pepper as if that was where she was born to be. Emma had all she could do to keep Pepper in line and outmaneuver the goat.

We passed the end of Slocum’s pasture. Past encounters with the goat had always ended when we reached the limits of her home. I was sure Roxy would turn around and go back as she had always done before. We swiftly trotted away hoping to leave the goat behind but unfortunately that wasn’t the case. To our surprise Roxy ran very fast keeping up with the horses and came alongside CJ. By this time we were far from the goat’s home turf.

“The goat is still following us,” said Emma looking back down the road.

“I know. We’ll have to walk the goat home after we put the horses away,” I said keeping an eye on Roxy.

Roxy settled in next to CJ. When the goat threatened to walk too close to the horse, I reached down with my short riding crop and gently tapped the goat on her shoulder as a warning to back off. As soon as CJ saw that I wasn’t going to let the goat get too close he relaxed, but kept his head and one ear slightly cocked in Roxy’s direction. Since the goat was shorter than CJ, when Roxy was very close the horse couldn’t see the goat and that made him nervous.

Finally, our strange little group made it back to the barn. Emma swung off Pepper. Roxy immediately ran over to her, placed her hooves on Emma’s chest and started spitting. In the meantime, I dismounted as Emma freed herself of the goat.

“Grab her collar!” I shouted.

“Okay,” replied Emma trying to seize Roxy by the collar.

“Let me hold the goat. You take Pepper into her stall and I’ll wait here. Come back as quick as you can with a lead rope,’ I said.

CJ waited quietly, standing next to the goat. Emma hurried into the barn, locked Pepper in her stall and within a couple of minutes was back with a lead rope.

“Here, hold CJ,” I said handing her the horses reins. “I’ll tie the goat up to the hitch-ring on the barn.

Quickly, I led Roxy to the side of the barn, looped the rope through a metal ring and tied a slipknot making sure I didn’t give the goat too much room to move around and get into trouble. Roxy looked at me with her big yellow eyes, obviously not happy being tied up.

“Ok, let’s get these horses unsaddled and put up for the night,” I said as we hurried into the barn.

I led CJ into the dimly lit barn. We immediately turned a sharp corner and CJ rushed into his stall. Swiftly, the horse’s girths and breast-collars were unhooked and saddles pulled off. Roxy began to bleat causing every horse in the barn to jump and nervously move around in their stalls. Jupiter turned in his stall, looked in the direction of the goat and neighed. In response, all the horses returned Jupiter’s call to danger. The goat didn’t like being tied and started to butt the side of the barn, which set off another round of whinnying.

“CJ calm down. I won’t let Roxie get you,” I said patting the horse.

Within minutes Emma and I had the saddles put away, the barn light switched off and the doors closed. We stepped outside and saw Roxy restless, but still tied. I rapidly walked up to the goat, untied the knot and led Roxy away from the barn.

“What shall we do?” asked Emma.

“We’ll have to walk her back to her pasture. She won’t fit in the car. One of us can drive while the other leads the goat, then we’ll switch,” I replied.

“Ok, I’ll lead the goat first,” said Emma taking hold of the purple rope and walking towards the road.

A slight chill filled the afternoon air. Emma walked briskly around the barn and up the road as I pulled the car out of the driveway. When I caught up with her, I drove slowly behind her as she led the goat up the street. Roxy didn’t mind being lead and walked happily beside Emma. Near the intersection of Weaver and Sutliff, we switched and it was my turn to lead the goat. Suddenly, a dog began barking some distance away and Roxy stopped dead in her tracks.

“Don’t worry Roxy. I won’t let the dog get you,” I said pulling on the rope and trying to inch the goat forward.

“Mom, I’ll walk the goat,” said Emma seeing the goat didn’t want to walk for me.

Emma jumped out of the car and took hold of Roxy’s lead rope. The goat liked Emma and began to walk up the hill. I drove up the road and came to a stop near a pull off on Weaver Road, stepped out of the car and started walking back towards Emma and the goat. In the meantime, a big silver pickup truck stopped near Emma.

“Are you taking that goat somewhere?” the woman driving the truck asked Emma.

“I’m trying to get the goat back to her pasture. We were horseback riding and the goat followed us to our barn,’ said Emma.

“I’m the sister-in- law of the goat’s owner. Maybe we can get the goat in the truck bed,” said the woman.

The middle-aged woman stepped out of the truck and walked over to the goat. Emma and the woman each took an end of the goat and tried to lift the animal into the truck bed over the tailgate. They tried a couple of times but Roxy’s weight prevented them from lifting her high enough to get the goat into the truck.

“I’ll just walk her home,” said Emma.

“I’ll park up next to the pasture and meet you there,” said the woman climbing back into the truck and driving away.

The silver truck passed me as I met Emma in the road with the goat. Roxy stared at a brown Standardbred in his pasture near the intersection. The horse took one look at the goat, snorted and kicked up his hooves, spinning away in a mad gallop. Emma pulled on Roxy’s lead rope and we walked a few yards up the hill until the goat’s pasture came into view. Some distance away, the woman with the truck stood near the Slocum fence waiting for the goat.

“We can let the goat go. I think she’ll just go home now,” I said.

Emma unclipped the lead rope. Roxy, tired from her long walk, took a few slow steps towards the woman in the road.

“Come on Roxy,” called the woman.

Leisurely, the goat walked away from us towards the woman. Finally, the woman grabbed Roxy’s collar and led the goat away. Glad to at last be rid of the goat, we jumped in our car , turned around and headed towards home.

“Boy, that goat is a handful!” I said as we drove away.

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Snow Ride

Posted on March 6, 2012 by Pat


Video by Anne Louise MacDonald at Hug A Horse Farm www.hugahorsefarm.com

Softly in hushed darkness it fell, blanketing villages, farms and woodlands. Delicate downy flakes, crisp and new muffled the sound of a fox hunting mice in an open field. Moonbeams transformed snowflake crystals into a myriad of tiny, frozen diamonds sparkling and shining in those nocturnal hours. Overnight minor streamlets trickling off hillsides became delicate dripping icicles clutching crags, overhanging precipices. Wind mischievously blew the helpless, swirling snow into funny shapes, packing it into little mounds alongside the road.

The mention of snow conjures up many images, some horribly troubling and some downright delightful. Eighty-nine years ago, Robert Frost stopped his horse near a forest, jotted down a few lines about snow filling up the woods and his ageless poem captured our minds and hearts. And what is the poem about, just snow and tranquility or perhaps something more? It’s interesting to note that the poet’s only companion was a restless horse reminding his owner of their need to get on with the trip and back to the barn.

Horses enjoy snow; they roll and run in it, frolicking like children on winter holiday. Obviously when horses and people play snow games together the result can be odd. The sport, skijoring, began in Sweden and is enjoyed across Europe and some parts of America and Canada. Skijoring involves a horse with or without a rider pulling a skier through a race course, which may or may not have ski jumps. What began many years ago as an inexpensive way to travel has evolved into a worldwide sport with prizes and spectators.

Of course, not everyone feels that way about snow. Drivers on a snowy day fear an accident, homeowners complain about shoveling the white stuff off sidewalks, roofs collapse under the weight of it and in cities it turns to a brown crusty mess. Blizzards dump huge amounts of snow knocking out power lines and closing roads and stores. Hapless travelers risk the danger of being trapped along the roadside when whiteouts obscure their visibility.

Last year we had lots of snow. The ground stayed covered, every few days new snow came down adding to what was already there. I rode with Karen and Marilyn last year, while it snowed and after it snowed. Sometimes, I rode alone, just Pepper and me. But the weather has been warmer this year; January with temperatures in the 50’s was more like spring than winter. I missed the snow and its crisp sound beneath the horse’s hooves as we passed through it.

Finally on January 21, 2012, after waiting so many weeks and months, a snowstorm came at night. With the morning’s light, I peered out my window and saw the snow. In all, 4 to 6 inches fell, carpeting everything, decorating the trees with white puffy clumps. It was time for the snow ride. Emma and I headed to the stables, saddled the horses and rode toward the park.

The Slochem ponies ran up to the fence and stuck their heads through the railings while all their other horses pranced and raced in the snow. As we rode by we heard the goat bleating on the other side of the barn. On we traveled, turning up Bobcat Road and into Round Top Park. The snow was fresh, not too deep. We followed the paw prints of some kind of small animal up the road. The erratic tracks of a rabbit or squirrel circled, twisted and in a wide curving arch doubled back on themselves; evidence of either a friendly game or deadly chase. As we turned a curve in the road, suddenly a large doe bounded across our path, out of the woods and down the hillside on a steep mountain trail.

Other people were out enjoying the snow; an older woman greeted us with a hardy hello. I’d seen her before in the fall, always alone but clearly enjoying a bit of solace with nature. A little further on, a middle aged couple came into view, also enjoying the winter beauty on a pleasant Saturday afternoon. Then we came to snowshoe tracks marking where an unknown adventurer had passed earlier in the day.

CJ and Pepper stopped and refused to go on when they saw a pair of park benches, newly installed near the picnic and jungle gym area not far from the baseball field. We urged them forward and made a game of circling the benches, weaving in and out, until being afraid wasn’t any more fun and the horses were ready to move on.

I looked up a snow filled path through a stand of tall, slender Eastern White Pines, remnants of a mighty forest which once covered the East Coast. Long ago the pine forests were clear cut, their straight trunks used for the masts of sailing ships. Looking at them in the snow, so evenly planted and with uniform widths, I could almost imagine hundreds of ships ready to set sail on a windy day. We continued by the pond covered in thick snow and by the stop sign dressed with a little snowcap. The yellow gate came into sight and we walked around it, off the mountain, passed a blue house where two barking dogs were usually tied to trees, but not today. The dogs were gone, taken inside for some warmth.

We came to the last hill before home. The horses extended their stride and zipped up the road passing the rural mailman in his improvised mail car, which was parked momentarily to deposit a few letters. On and on we cantered until we reached the hilltop, and then walked down the other side to the barn where the horse’s hay and grain waited. We brushed them down as they ate, picked out any packed snow and ice in their hooves, then flipped off the barn light and headed home for our own dinner.

For those who have forgotten Frost’s memorable poem – here it is:

Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening

Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound’s the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark and deep.
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.

By Robert Frost
1923/New Hampshire

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Kim Burris at Sharp Lee Farm

Posted on February 27, 2012 by Pat

The winter had been unusually warm, rain instead of snow, temperatures in the high 30’s and 40’s instead of dipping down into the single digits and below zero. February was no different. The air felt like early spring, the day I jumped in my son’s Honda and drove up Route 34 on my way to Sharp Lee Farm. I turned left at East Spencer Road, continued for a few miles, pulled into the driveway in front of a single story house and stepped out of the car. The barn was directly across the road and I thought Kim would be there, but before I got very far in that direction, the front door swung open and a pleasant woman greeted me. I stepped into Kim’s comfortable home and sat down.

Backtracking a bit, like so many people I walk in many worlds, usually those worlds don’t meet but sometimes they cross. Besides my deep attachment to the horse world, I confess to being involved with a dedicated group of writing geeks which meet at the Corning Library twice a month. Our enthusiastic leader and writing guru is Michelle Wells. A few weeks ago, Michelle and I exchanged blog sites. I clicked on her website and read Michelle’s post. Shortly, a comment from Michelle appeared below my article about the Unadilla Auction House:

Hi Pat – I actually grew up across the street and a couple houses down from the auction house. Was just up there on Sunday. My sister and I were horse crazy and watched the horses with avid interest. I also walked horses at polo games across the river where they have a huge indoor arena for polo games, Susquehanna Stables. I’m not sure it’s still there but those were some great days. Thanks!

How ironic! One thing led to another and it turned out Michelle’s brother and his girl friend, Kim, were up to their ears in horses. Michelle helped me with an introduction and that’s how I ended up on a fine Wednesday morning in February sipping tea and talking horses with Kim Burris.

Around age 3, Kim’s Dad decided it was time for her to learn about horses. They drove across the border from their home in Winchendon, MA to Jaffery, NH for riding lessons. The stables not only offered riding and driving lessons, they also offered hayrides and sleigh rides through the surrounding scenic countryside dotted with sparkling lakes and rolling hills at the base of Grand Monadnock Mountain. Although, the distance was only about 10 miles, the trip placed Kim on a life path which she never deviated from and instilled an enduring adoration for horses. The stables, Silver Ranch, had a straight forward philosophy based on teaching clear and safe communication between horse and humans. Additionally, they taught their students how to tack, groom and take care of horses. Kim had a long relationship with the stables.

“I was lucky to have parents who cared enough to give me riding lessons once a week when I was a kid,” said Kim.

“Not everyone gets that opportunity,” I replied.

“When I was 11 years old, I wanted a horse so bad, I begged and begged. The stable owner, Alfred Sawyer, told my Dad he might as well buy the horse for me. Alfred said I would get sick of it like all the other girls as soon as I became a teenager and discovered boys,” said Kim smiling. She paused for a moment and sipped her tea, “Dad bought the horse, but I never lost interest. I’ve been riding and owning horses ever since.”

“What type of horse did you buy?” I asked.

“The first horse I owned was a ½ Morgan- ½ Arab mare named Stormy. She was about 12 years old, not much of a jumper. She could jump a 2 foot rail but it wasn’t pretty,” said Kim.

“Where did she come from?” I asked.

“Fairhaven, VT…Stormy was 19 months old and I trained her to ride,” said Kim.

“That’s interesting; she was the first horse you trained and rode in shows?” I asked.

“I used to ride her in open shows and 4-H events. I was horse crazy; I think all little girls are. I loved horses. And was lucky my parents could afford lots of lessons. I’ve ridden trail rides, shows, lots of different kinds of horses. At Silver Ranch, Alfred basically bought horses from the local auction and put the lesson riders on them. There was a turnover at the stables and we got to ride a lot of different horses. I liked all the horses, but my favorites have always been Quarter Horses and Standardbreds,” said Kim.

“The horse I ride is a Standardbred. She’s a really nice little horse,” I said.

“Standardbreds are great horses. My Dad became interested in Standardbreds through a good friend who raced trotters and pacers at Hinsdale Raceway in New Hampshire. When I was 13 years old my Father bought his first Standardbred. We had a track at home and exercised and trained the horses there. I worked at Hinsdale in summers. At 16 I took a job as a groom and moved to the track,” said Kim.

“You lived there?” I asked.

“Yes, the big tracks have a dormitory, community bathrooms, and cafeteria for the grooms and other people who work there. I was struck with the horse bug, quit high school, and went to work as a groom at Hinsdale Raceway. I lived at racetracks during the racing season and traveled the circuit; Foxboro Raceway, Plainridge Race Course, Rockingham Park, all over the Northeast. The season lasted 3 to 4 months and when the tracks closed I went home. Now, the big tracks are open all year long, Monticello, Yonkers….the smaller tracks like Tioga Downs are still open seasonally,” Kim replied.

“So you’ve worked with horses you’re entire life,” I said.

“Basically, I’ve always owned horses; although, I had another job for about 12 to 13 years working in a woodshop making furniture, said Kim.

“What type of furniture? I asked.

“I worked for Bellecraft Wood, located in Winchendon, MA where I was born and raised. We basically worked in pine and made New England style furniture, mostly small tables and hutches. They are still in business,” she said.

“So how did you get from Massachusetts to Spencer, NY?” I asked.

“In 2001 my husband and I moved to a farm in Candor. The next year he passed away,” she said.

Kim, her husband Larry, and a friend were headed for a Standardbred auction in Ohio. With the horse trailer hitched to their truck, they pulled into the auction lot, parked, sat through the sale and bought two horses. One horse, B-Practice, looked like a skinny, wet cat with a big pretty head. They loaded the horses into the trailer and in the late evening headed back to New York State. On the highway, Larry began to have trouble breathing, a blue and white hospital sign not far up the road helped them locate a doctor. A few minutes after Larry checked in at the emergency room, he died of a heart attack.

“It was hard but everyone has tough times and good times. You make the best of it and move on,” said Kim.

“That must have been difficult, so far from home with the horses in the trailer and everything happening so suddenly,” I said.

“It was very hard, but every experience teaches you something,” she said.

Kim brought the horses back to Candor and life went on. She worked at Tioga Downs Raceway in the paddock as a farrier and an exercise driver. When a horse lost a shoe she tacked it on swiftly, within a minute, and the horse went quickly back to the track. A vet worked in the paddock too. Not far off, an ambulance waited hoping a sulky driver wouldn’t be in need of their services, an ever-present sign of the inherent dangers of harness racing. Kim a registered driver with her own colors, Columbian Blue and White, drove horses for qualifying times, and as the days slipped by she continued to train B-Practice. The skinny little horse that looked like a drowned cat and had never won a race began to win races, a lot of races. She won her first 8 starts and went on to win a total of 26 races and earn $30,000. Trotter trade publications printed her picture and wrote her story.

“Training requires daily exercise…jogging in both directions at a pace or trot. Trotters are not allowed to canter. I enjoy working with Standardbreds for several reasons; first they have great endurance, second a wonderful personality, third they’re very smart, and fourth docile compared to thoroughbreds, perhaps because we work and handle them more often,” said Kim.

As it always seems to happen, when everything is rolling along smoothly there is a sudden dip in the road. Without warning tragedy struck, B-Practice and another mare got loose from their pasture, ran out into the road and were hit by a car. B-Practice flipped over the car roof, demolished the vehicle and sustained injuries.

“She recovered from the injuries and I could have retrained her and started her back racing, but I decided to retire B-Practice and breed her instead. She is now 15 years old. Her oldest foal, TalkAboutAPhoto just turned 3 and will hopefully race this summer. I’m building a stable of racers,” said Kim.

Not all horses at Sharp Lee Farm belong to Kim, although they are all in her care. Some are from Tioga Downs Raceway; come to rest and recuperate. While at the track, the horses are stabled and receive exercise either on the track or on a huge treadmill for horses with side gates. The horse walks or trots for about 20 minutes with an average distance of 3 to 6 miles. If a horse needs rest, becomes lame or just needs a few days off to eat some green grass during racing season they are turned out at Kim’s farm.

We left the warm house, stepped outside to the backyard and walked a few feet to the first pasture. Sharp Lee Farm has deep, flat bottom land divided into four large pastures. At the first pasture two dark bay Standardbreds with horse blankets draped over their sleek backs, picked up their heads and pricked their ears in our direction as soon as they saw Kim. With a burst of speed and power the two beautiful creatures ran towards us. Kim bent under the wire fence, greeted the horses with a friendly hello and a treat. It was the same at every pasture, the horses made a mad dash to greet Kim, received a friendly rub on the neck and a treat.

How many horses do you have?” I asked.

“Too many horses… some come and go and some come and just stay,” she said. “I love all my horses. There are no bad horses, just bad training,” said Kim.

I met B-Practicing, her foals and pasture buddies. George, an older horse, and Roci, a mini-horse, both belonged to a neighbor who could no longer care for them due to medical problems, so Kim took the horses in. The mascot for Tioga Downs Raceway, Tioga Ty, a pinto Shetland cross contentedly walked among the larger horses. During racing season on Sundays, he had his own little corral by the grandstands where kids enjoyed watching him.

Currently, Kim is taking a break in training, but hopes to begin anew when the track at the Owego fairgrounds opens again. The devastation created by the 2011 flood, damaged the fairgrounds and the track was closed, hopefully it will open soon. In the meantime, the winter has been mild, the horses pleasant and valley life serene, but it won’t be long before harnesses are hitched to sulkies and Kim will be busier than ever at the racetrack doing what she enjoys; racing trotters.

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