Morning Glory

Morning outside chores are my reward for getting the kids to school on time and explaining the phases of the moon before 7 am. The house chores are done, or at least started and I can turn my full attention outside.

The chickens make a low constant "bok bok" sound as they welcome their breakfast. One of the most calming noises on the planet, it creates a feeling I wish I could bottle. Hens at my feet while I fill their waters and clean their coops, they check in with me often. Looking in the nest box to see if the hay needs replacing, one particularly industrious bird has already laid an egg.

The egg is light cream with buff undertones. Large enough that for a moment you feel sorry for the poor creature that had to lay it! It's warm and clean, textured to mimic a beach stone that's been worn by the waves. The chickens continue their soft constant noise while picking at the grass.

While I'm cleaning coop pans, the horses wait patiently to walk me up to the barn. The chickens that spook them so badly while they are under saddle, seem amusing to them at liberty.

The sun starts to creep over the tops of the trees as I call the chickens back to their pen and greet Pegasus. His little head seems out of place, lower than the gate, among the other horses who easily drape theirs over the top rail.

I let my heart get warm with affection, considering that he is happy to see me. I know that in reality, it's only because he knows I will remove his grazing muzzle for a few minutes of free grazing before he goes in. Affection and greed can often be connected I suppose.

The parade follows me up the hill. I try to appreciate the beautiful morning glory blooms littering the pasture, the vines that consume hours of my life each warm weather season. I'm glad the horses don't eat the toxic plants in the pasture but they invade my barn with ferocity.

The barn cat leaps the fence on the far corner to join the procession. Likely having been stalking the chickens from afar waiting for me to leave one for her to take. We have no idea how old Merry is. She was estimated around 7 or 8 years when we found her, 4 years ago. She's tough and uniquely qualified for a barn cat position. She moves with a swagger of a cat that's seen battles, the fluid of her gaits showing her age when she thinks no one is looking, but the horses are always looking.

Turning on the water to soak the feed, a loud chirp rings out and startles me. The little toad that lives under the stone by the water spigot says his twice daily greeting, or is he cursing at me for waking him up? Toads have a character that's notoriously hard to read. Considering they pee on us any chance they get, maybe not so hard.

Czech begins his post manning the gate. He's an interesting herd leader in that he doesn't push to be in first, he hates being in the barn alone even for a few seconds, instead he stands back giving subtle gestures to determine who comes in when. Spotlight waits patiently while Bandon keeps asking him like an impatient toddler if it's time yet. No? How bout now? How bout now? Czech blocks him with his whole body while Bandon slings his neck over Czech's back.

Czech lets Spotlight go first to get his muzzle taken off for a few bites of grass while Bandon is allowed forward.

Bandon's skin is warm and smells like sweet plants and earth. Forever my mud smeared, frog in his front overalls pocket kind of boy, he knocks over the empty feed pails and tries to turn on the water while I shut the gate behind him.

The Canadian Geese fly over making a sound that no closer resembles music than a cat whose tail is caught. I can hear the feathers moving air over the racket they make among themselves. An egret flies just North of them, a stealthy air craft compared to the geese.

Spotlight takes a step back on cue from Czech that he himself will be going next. I leave the gate open behind Czech, knowing Spotlight will wait a bit then walk right in to his stall. Czech put away, I stick my head around the corner to call to Pegasus that the gate chaos is all done, but he is already cantering up in a three beat gait that even sounds small and cute.

The buckets rattle in their holders while Merry crunches her cat food. The frogs have gone quiet again and I'm hesitant to turn on the radio for the day and break the soft percussion of animals eating.

It's time to start packing the trailer in preparation for tomorrow's show. I do the math in my head for the twentieth time, getting the same answer as before. I have to start at 3 am if we're going to make the Jumper's Class down south of Atlanta in time. I wish that Bandon stalled well. I wish that I had a cot and could bring him tonight, sleeping in his stall on show site to keep him company. I wonder if horse showing is truly an addiction. Why was I doing this?

The sun reaches higher stretching out rays clear through the barn aisle.  They lite on Bandon's shoulder. The ripples in his muscle reminds me of how it felt to stride stride fly with him just the morning before. 3 am or not, I had to have more.

The radio goes on, putting a work feel back in the barn, as leather cleaner gets a fresh sponge and the day begins.

Snowstorm 2014

Shortly after my last post, we went back into winter storm mode. Ankle deep, wheelbarrow trapping mud turned into this gorgeous scene that made the work a little easier to bear.

It was so much fun! We played while the snow fell

and again the next day we were able to enjoy a perfectly powder snow in very comfortable air temperatures.

Of course all of that snow melted and turned into even more mud. Topped off by rain last night, it's hard to know when I'll have footing to work horses on again (an indoor arena is a regular fantasy). It isn't all bad though, the kids were off for the snow last week and off again this week for winter break so we've gone on adventures as often as possible.

Happy Birthday (on Valentine's Day of course) to my now 13 year-old, Czech Valentine!

Prospect Horse

When I finally saw the start of a huge dream begin to unfold as we made arrangements to get our first off the track horse to rehab instead of keep, I had no idea what was waiting for us as we went through the loss of Lake.

As I do barn chores everyday, Whisper's stall stares at me with "What next?"

I still want to help racehorses. I do NOT want any additional "forever" horses of my own (save for one special guy Chris and I agree may retire here one day). I also do not want another horse who is broken from the track and at greater odds to either be forced to become a forever horse here or to have the injuries worsen. I've paid attention to the numbers, I understand the odds of these horses is more grave than I initially thought.

A prospect horse is an idea, taking a fresh, sound, off-track and spending time on the horse to make him suitable to resale. This would be beneficial to the horse we take and if it all went well, we would re-coop money put into the horse. A hugely satisfying venture for the horse and for me.

It's also a gamble. The horse could get sick. The horse could get injured here. The horse may not have a sound mind and be difficult to re-sell. The horse could sell then not workout and I would feel it was my duty to provide a safety net for the horse.

There have been horses that crossed my path in the last few months that I could have helped. One slaughter-bound OTTB gelding I tried for and was deeply hurt to find out that he was not at all who they claimed (something I should have learned after experiences with horses that are listed one age and actually another) and that the horse was in a shady deal that you couldn't really save him from. I went so far as setting up quarantine for him before I realized that he was never going to make it out of there.

My other option, of course, is to do nothing. Keep my happy herd of three and continue on working the pony to be good for my kids and my own boys for myself. This is the smartest option of all. It's also the most self-serving where, to be honest, I'm left at the end of the day feeling like I'm not doing any good for the world outside of myself and that's hard for me. I need to help and contribute to the world and I'd like it to be by helping OTTB's.

I'm happy to say that I'm smarter about things after living through these horses and experiences. I don't trust what I don't see with my own eyes (or listings), I know that if it's too good to be true something is wrong, and I've barricaded my heart and my pocketbook a bit against the long shot cases that are good for neither.

I guess we shall wait and see...

A New Adventure And A Red Horse

Like a kid on Christmas morning, I was wide awake at 4 am... 6 hours before my friend Cindy's trailer would be here for Czech and I.

I probably should have been nervous for how he would do on a ride off property, especially since this ride included cannons and other random items all through the woods, instead I was just deliriously happy at the idea of riding my own horse on a trail.

In all the years of riding I had never once ridden my own horse out. I borrowed and begged horses for rides off property, spending the first few miles trying to figure out the horse I was riding. Today I knew the horse well and loved the prospect of a sunny fall day spent on his back on an adventure.

Czech did not disappoint, he took great care of me. At times he had trouble distinguishing step-ups from jumps, the rocks really bothered his bare back feet (meaning a lot of hugging the outside edge of the trail and coming a little too close to all the trees and spiders), and he shied at moving water the first time it was in front of him.

By the end though, he was belly deep in a creek (pawing with gusto threatening to go down with me) and cantering with our trail buddy.

On the way home from the trail, we stopped by to see a horse prospect.

The 16 hand OTTB went by us in the round pen, big eyed, kicking at the person driving him forward. When the person led him out, chain under his chin, he popped his head up to avoid the chain only to have her correct him with it again almost driving him to rear. He had a kind eye but obviously needed a lot of work.

His movement was gorgeous and a quick internet search while we stood there revealed why, he was a Storm Cat grandon on his sire's side and has KY derby winner Thunder Gulch as his dam's sire.

I asked the owner nicely if I could walk the horse and I moved the chain to over the nose and he immediately dropped his head and relaxed.

He needed a person to trust and time on cool calories with lots of turnout. Hangingbyathread's story was a successful one, he won over $300,000 with 10 firsts and was a stakes winner. He raced 45 times in 6 years straight and still managed to remain sound. How he ended up going from making his owners over a quarter million dollars to a kill buyer, almost starved to death, is beyond me. But he did. And since being bought off a kill truck, he had been sitting in a barn waiting to find a person to move forward with. I'll get to networking and see if we can find him his very own person.

Do People Know When They Are Crazy?

What the heck am I doing?

Any sane woman who spent that many years in constant child-rearing would take the first few weeks of school as a long awaited break. There are no weekends or time-off when kids are around and you are Mom, so those few precious hours could be enjoyed doing a crafty thing, having a nice lunch date with girlfriends, or knocking off Pinterest items that the kids come home too.

But me, I'm out sweating my rear off, freshly wasp stung through my breeches, trying to see if my horse could potentially show in a few weeks.

I'd hoped that Czech would be fresh and happy to work this morning after a weekend off, I was wrong. As we came around our third circle at the canter and he began to buck, I wondered what exactly was wrong in my head that made me want this life so much. Is it a mental health issue? Do I have some sort of reason I want to punish myself?

I prepared to ask for the canter for the fourth time stretching out my screaming muscles around the L1 and L2 vertebrae that have permanent damage from my accident, attempting a proper position. Deep breath, loosen the back, hold on as he starts to buck. I am too old for this mess. Maybe I'm too broken for it.

I remember that I'm in this for the horses and the teamwork we share, Bandon was especially good on his groundwork with a bridle on today, and other than the bucking Czech was pretty good too.

Still when my back is alternating screaming at me and going numb, I toy with the idea of hanging-up my jump saddle, grabbing some western tack complete with beer-toting saddlepad, and cut my losses.

Then I see my boys gleaming in the end of day sun, capable of so much, I can't stop now. The potential wasted would be devastating to me and way more painful than any old injury. I take the rainbows that have shown up here, there were three just last week, as a sign that I'm on the right path. We'll try again tomorrow, hopefully with less bucking and more harmony, I do love these boys...

Czech Arrives

I was lucky to be able to meet-up with some friends I hadn't been able to see often since our move, to break-up the 4 hour round-trip to go and pick-up Czech (Toad) with all of my kids in tow on summer break.

They had a good 2 hours of running on the playground and I got to relax a little with my friends, much needed after the trip down where semis made my empty trailer start to weave behind my truck on the interstate, followed by a long stretch of 2 lane with construction cones pushing traffic right on top of each other.

After wearing out the small people, we headed over to the farm where Czech loaded perfectly as Iva kissed him goodbye and we traveled home. All of my horses were in the barn for the heat of the day, Czech got to meet Bandon while I took his standing wraps off.

Later that night for turnout, Czech enjoyed stretching his legs in big gallops across the pasture. Spotlight didn't give him much of a glance as he went to his favorite job of grazing. Bandon, on the other hand, was fit to be tied.

He didn't know what he should do about this new boy on his property. Usually Bandon is pretty laid back and not a higher-ranking horse. Something about Czech made him feel bold though and he spent a good bit of time defending the Whisper's paddock line from the intruder.

Whisper was indifferent in her separate paddock space. She's been on solo turnout since the beginning of last week when one of her kicks tore a deep hole in Bandon's shoulder about 5 days before our show attempt. The following day the horses were on day turnout with mild weather and I was able to watch, Whisper pursued Bandon across the pasture, running and kicking him off and on all day. As she came up lame and Bandon was wounded, Chris and I decided to just make our lives easier and let her have an acre that was all hers.

This morning the boys had worked out most of their differences. Bandon still felt like he needed to keep himself between Spot and Czech. I'm sure that will work itself out.

I worked in the barn last night into the late summer darkness hauling fresh water to Whisper's paddock, stall waters, pasture trough cleaning, filling all the stalls with fresh shavings, stripping and cleaning the trailer, and unpacking Czech. Tonight I'm hoping to get to know him a little better with some grooming. I did sneak in his stall with a tape this morning and he is 17.1 hh, making Bandon's 16 hh look like a QH.

Whisper's Healing And Other Farm News

Whisper has been on pasture rest after being released from her 90 day stint on stall rest for the tendon injury in January. This is how that leg looks today.

We've lowered the shoe for the last time, in 3 weeks she will go flat and be able to put her heel down and fully extend the healed tendon.

She moves okay on it, we've had some setbacks with lameness. The hind leg that was injured a year ago, has grown down, it's holding together well though the deformity from the scarring at the band will always be there. A "normal" hoof can't grow out of that type of scar ever.

She is happy on her pasture rest lifestyle and I hope she just lets things be. From what I understand about this type of injury is that re-injury is highly likely with use and could be crippling.

Spotlight is fat. Really fat. Special ordering a pony-sized grazing muzzle kind of chunky. His job as pony-ride giver isn't giving him enough exercise and to be truthful, I don't enjoy riding him anymore than he enjoys toting my oversized pony-jockey body around. The longe line and he are starting to be friends in an effort to shape up a bit.

He's still better with kids than with any adult, exactly what he's supposed to be, and we love him for it. He is happy to give my one-year-old niece a pony ride then stand dozing while kids tug all over him to brush him.

Toad will be here before we know it. His coggins was pulled Friday and his feet were done the week before, so I've just got to get back out there to get him picked up!

With A Name Like Valentine, He Might Belong At Seven Hearts

A friend of mine from my dog sport days, Iva was in Thoroughbreds before dogs. In fact, she went to jockey school in her native Czechoslovakia. In addition to training as a jockey, she owned a few Thorougbreds through the years including one that she bred and foaled on Valentines Day 2001. Czech Valentine, aka Toad, was her baby and she raised, trained, and raced him.

When her life changed with a divorce and she could no longer keep Toad, he went on free lease three years ago to a supposed good home. This is Toad at the new home when Iva last saw him.

The new home decided they couldn't use Toad anymore and apparently just stopped feeding him. This is how Toad looked when he came back to Iva this Spring.

You can imagine her heartbreak.

Iva is still not in a position to keep Toad herself but wants to be sure he is taken care of, I was honored when she asked if he could come here to me. He is sound, sane, and has a lot more years of not just life but active use left. He enjoys a job and is very easy on the eyes. All Iva had to do was feed him and he regained his previous state in no time, obviously not having a medical issue that contributed to his appalling condition and he passed vet exam with no issue.

I took the drive to meet Toad in person, he charmed his way to me pretty quick and let the little kids mug him. He's a typical big silly boy, he last measured 17 hands at 2 years of age and I'm pretty sure he's bigger than that. He responded well to me on the ground and Iva shared every detail of his life.

Czech Valentine ran 22 starts and earned just over $30,000. He has Timeless Native as a grandsire on his dam's side, Mr Prospector on his sire's side by way of Fappiano. Most of his blood history crossses back to Native Dancer (by way of Raise a Native).

So Toad will come and do a trial run here starting in a few weeks, hopefully getting along with Whisper. I'm not concerned with him fitting in with the boys at all, just my girl. I'm going to try very hard to call him Toad, though I may fall into calling him Czech (the track called him Big Czech) because he is just so lovely to look at and Toad is hard to pair with his pretty face. Iva gave him the nickname when he was little and into absolutely every bit of trouble he could find.

It'll be nice to have another sound horse around the place, another mouth to help crop back my ridiculously high pasture grass, and a back-up horse should Bandon need months off to grow hoof if the last round of plates don't stay on his feet. It's also nice to know we are helping a horse and a friend.

Have Trailer Will Travel

My birthday is around the corner and my husband got me a DREAM gift. My horses and I are mobile! Okay, maybe not Whisper (who is on pasture rest for at least a year), but Bandon and Spotlight are now free to leave the farm.

The first trip was to get me used to hauling and finally let my oldest daughter ride her pony in a show at Rivermont. Her nerves wouldn't let her do anything more than the leadline class this time and we made the most of it.

Spotlight was wonderful for his 6-year-old who beamed all the way through the ring.

Watching my crew of kids finding corners of a horse trailer to sit on so they could eat their horse show vendor hot dogs, made my year. My favorite things were all in one place on a gorgeous Spring day.

Meanwhile, I'm trying to be patient and slow with Bandon's jump training. I really want to put a jump in front of him with some height and see what he'll do under saddle when faced with something that takes more than  a larger stride to clear. For now though I know it'll benefit him long term to make it fun and keep it low pressure and simple, so that's what we're doing.

Trot poles to start.

Then we progressed to trot poles leading to a 12" crossrail.

Then 12" crossrail with one ground pole leading to it.

Bandon had extra peppermints to celebrate his 6th birthday that fell on Kentucky Derby day this year, all racehorses gain a year on New Years though May 4th is his actual foaling date. He also had a mini vacation from training as flood producing rain came to stay over the last 4 days.

Before the rain came in we progressed from trot poles leading to 12" cross rails on to 12" cross rails by themselves and in sequences of 2. He kept up more poles than he knocked down and settled his adrenaline after a few tries on jumping two in a row.

He is thriving on a loose rein and lots of praise, unfortunately he also thrives on routine and rain makes routine out of my control. I've started him on a strong hoof supplement hoping to improve his hoof walls so that losing shoes doesn't continue to also make us lose days.

In this time of low-height work, I'm also hoping to improve on my position. Bandon has the disadvantage of a rider without extensive experience jumping different horses. I've pretty much only jumped Scooter and Dollar (with any kind of consistency) in my adulthood and I know how they felt and how they jumped. Whisper I had just gotten started on before she injured her hoof last year. Bandon is an unknown to me and he's learning so he isn't consistent at all. I haven't learned to relax into him enough to go with his motion instead of guessing and getting ahead. I'll get it, eventually.

Mikayla's First Time Out

Things are calm at Seven Hearts as we come to the end of week one for Whisper's healing. It's going to be a long road. She's been okay and everybody is settling in to the new routine of Bandon out during the day and Spotlight out at night. 

The vet has been out for a re-check, more antibiotics, and a re-wrap. The wound itself looks pretty good and is healing. Hopefully another full week and the wound will be mostly to fully recovered, she's baring full weight on it when she tries to kick me doing standing wraps on the other leg. The tendon is our long-term project, she's going to be on stall rest a very long time. Whisper's stall sentence was giving me cabin fever so I snuck my youngest daughter, Mikayla, out to a local show to enter her first class (leadline).

She adored it. Scheduling conflicts, and adding in the leadline class to the list, meant that she got to wait patiently on board her borrowed pony, Kit Kat, for about 2 hours. She was completely delighted to be on her for as long as possible.

In sleet and snow showers.

She was a trooper. I was in awe at how much she loved being on a horse and how brave she was. At one point in the class, the pony kicked and she heaved sideways. Without a tear or worry, she clawed her way back upright and finished the class. Mikayla is only three years old and I revel in her natural way with animals.

In the middle of loss of my future riding Whisper, this was a nice reminder of all the other future out there.

Added bonus, Ben was there! He's fat, happy, and doing just great. On this cold day he was eager to show his stuff for his rider. He has moved from the younger kids onto older kids since a few of the younger ones have been tossed, the whole barn loves him though and he's been especially spoiled.

Home

We've been doing a lot of work to make the property that we bought a safe and working horse farm for Thoroughbreds. In three and a half months, here's some of the changes we've made to Seven Hearts. (Huge thank you to my husband for working hard on this with me)

What we started with : 

Today : (4 pick-up truck loads of garbage removed, nails and screws excavated from dirt floor, dozens of nails removed from the walls, wasp nest removed, paint touch-ups, crossties installed)

 I didn't take before pics of the tack room, it was full of garbage and rat remains. Every horizontal board had nails hammered partway in every 3 inches. I still have no idea why. At all levels of the wall. After removing nails, cleaning out, and removing some shelves, installing saddle racks, etc. it's a lot more usable.

Stalls Before :

Stalls Today : (Grate removed and replaced with wood poles, blanket bars and hooks added, stall walls taken down and added wood to make them solid, wire hay racks removed, corner feeders and supports removed, countless wheelbarrows of dirty pine shavings and hay removed)

 Fence Before :

Fence After : (4 strand- Barbwire removed, t-posts removed, poorly anchored corner supports removed. Round posts installed with 2x4" horse safe mesh secured, top rail added, gates replaced or cleaned/painted)

Casualties have been few; strands of my hair lost to a drill bit (for the record, it was tied back), Chris's toenail, and some smashed fingers. The house has also achieved home status with just a few more minor projects to go. This little town of 562 can add the 7 of us officially to the roster, we're calling this home.

"Home is any four walls that enclose the right person" H Rowland

Finding Thanksgiving

The emotional support that came in the wake of Lake's passing is more than I could ever hope for. I wish I could say it made it all a little easier, made it all heal a little faster. At the least it made me feel like I wasn't alone through it.

I'm shell shocked at how heavy his absence is felt here. Reason says that I only had the horse 14 days. Reason and my heart have been in conflict since I was a little girl though.

The empty stall stares at me each and every time I walked past it. There are dozens more horses in similar circumstance as Lake was, looking for their own new start. Unfortunately, this is the end of the meet season for tracks like Churchill Downs and horses still racing have been shipped south. Horses that are done at the track have been sent to rescues or to places I don't want to think about if the owners didn't care.

Those horses keep me up at night. They are the injured horses who may make full or at least partial recoveries given time and special care.

Just before Thanksgiving I had the great gift of a trail ride on a borrowed mount. He was a sturdy chestnut bald-faced QH and we had a lot of fun cantering through the woods of the nearby battlefields. Cindy was telling me on the ride about all of the trail opportunities nearby, moving here I stumbled into a prime area for waterfalls, mountains, and open spaces to ride.

The next day I took Whisper out for a ride in my arena. It was one of her difficult days and I left the barn thinking to myself that it was really a shame that I did love Thoroughbreds so much, and want to help a rescue so much, because having a trail savvy horse who wasn't such a challenge all the time would be a nice change. Riding is only part of the picture though and I wasn't willing to sacrifice what I loved living and working with for what I enjoyed riding.

Later that evening Chris and I had another long discussion about what we wanted to do with the empty space and we agreed that whatever it was, would be assumed a resident (not a foster) until proven otherwise. We agreed that though they were plentiful and in-need, a leg injury wasn't something I could take right now without worrying 24/7 about something going horribly wrong after what we had just been through.

There were also options like the in-between centers that take horses to their facilities from the track and list them to adopt. Basically what I was looking at doing when this all started, only they operate on a larger scale. They have assorted injuries, recovered horses, young horses, and lots of mares.

I scanned through about 60 horse adoption listings until I saw that one organization had a horse in need of a home listed that caught my attention who came off track early September. There's still a lot to ask and find out about him but I've started application processes to see what's around that corner.

It may be that there's a horse straight off-track next year that needs us. It may be that another organization has the "just right" horse to join us here. The only sure thing is that there's lots out there, a sad fact.

I'm ready to open up and see, give a horse a home and us a new start.

Meanwhile I'll enjoy playing with my big nutty mare and her spunky little friend. Spotlight has worked his way into our family just perfectly. His claim to fame, besides being great with all the kids, is his ability to throw his feed pan and my wheelbarrow at will.

Starting Over

I suppose you go into every new dream naive. If you could see all the blood and guts of it, it sort of ceases to be the new dream and starts to be reality.

My dream to be an after-jockey was soaked in naivety.

Yesterday afternoon I sat in the deep grass of the pasture looking at Whisper grazing in front of me, Lake lying in the barn behind me, already gone. I spoke some choice words to God and questioned over and over again why Lake had to survive a broken leg to go on to race again at the track only to come here for a new start and break the same leg again. He was meant to die here apparently. I don't know. I'm angry and sad and disappointed. We gave him 100 hours of the freedom of turnout, more than he had before, way less than he deserved.

Within an hour of his passing two extremes happened. The first was Lake's former owner/trainer (who I was on the phone with as the vet was there with Lake) offering me support and another horse whenever I was ready. The second was a call from a horse rescue coordinator questioning how and why this happened on my watch, hanging up on me before I could compose an answer through my shock. It was awful.

In response to Lake's trainer yesterday I said, "No". I didn't want another horse. I wanted Lake. I could never do this again. The Seven Hearts OTTB foster program is over.

I was naive to think I could take them in, help them, then say good-bye. I know that this circumstance was extreme and adopting out is a happy good-bye, still I hadn't been able to prevent the intense way my heart  bonds to those soft Thoroughbred hearts

In the pre-dawn hours this morning I went out to do chores and clean stalls. The shocking hole of emptiness stared at me. In 2 short weeks we had gotten used to Lake's head over the stall door. His halter hanging on his hook. Now it all looked so barren.

I turned back to Whisper and got to work. There is a little secret horse folks have, while it may seem icky to a lot of people, cleaning stalls is actually a wonderful way to clear your head. It takes no brain power and your mind is free to work out whatever it needs to while your body goes on auto-pilot.

I kept coming back to how it was just such a sad thing that Lake was so young. What a waste of a wonderful personality in such a gorgeous animal. What a waste.

Then I walked by the empty stall and "what a waste" came back to me again. Lake's life was gone but there were more behind him begging for another chance at their own life and I had space. Space that was going to waste.

Someone said once that when an animal dies the solution is getting another, immediately, to help you heal. A heart with a gaping hole obviously has room to fill.

I don't know when it will be, but I do know it will be a resident, not a foster, when the space becomes full once again.

I was naive to think that my small farm with a small herd could handle the intense change that a new member brings when you have the turn-overs of foster. I was naive to think I could handle working closely 3 times a day with any animal and not loving it with all my heart.

An After-Jockey

The dream of what I wanted for my life started innocently enough with a 4th grade assignment. What do you want to be when you are 18, 21, 30, and 50 years old?

I wanted to be a jockey. No question. Nothing in the world sounded better than that to me and I was sure (as the 5 years and running shortest member of my entire class) I could fit the physical standard, only needing training and time.

It wasn't the most obvious dream, I'd never even ridden a horse other than being thrown into a saddleseat saddle on one of the neighbor's Morgans for a lap around a round pen.

I came home with the project and my Mom said, "that's great, but what are you really going to be? You can't really be a jockey... maybe a teacher?" It's understandable that a recently widowed mother of two would want to be sure her daughter, who stayed up nights reading The Black Stallion series, had skills that would pay bills in the real world.

It hadn't occurred to me that I couldn't do it so I tucked it away, agreed with my Mom, and started spending a lot more time along the neighbor fence line talking to horses until I was old enough to work at a barn in exchange for riding lessons.

Many shows, rides, and years later I had a big fall and broke my back. In recovery from that, teenager stuff began to really get in the way. By 19 I was married to my high school boyfriend and all dreams were snuffed out. Life was "you can't, we can't, I won't"

Without getting too personal, a lot changed 10 years later with my divorce and then marriage to Chris. Way more than just adding triplets to my family. Looking back a sort of monumental moment was when Chris walked in the door with a brochure from a hippotherapy center, where he had been on a call for work, saying he had a place for me to ride horses if I wanted to. A tiny little window opened back up on a life I'd let die. I literally climbed off the table I was standing on (settle down, I was painting the bathroom while the babies were napping - sitting still is not my strong suit) and let it all begin again.

Next came the call for Promise, my adoption of her and her foaling Pirate. Then Whisper came off track and for a split second on her back for the first time, I realized that I was sitting on a racehorse. Not a jockey, but still I was sitting where only they had. I had delusions of grandness.

Whisper knocked me on my butt and all of the delusions right out of me. I almost sent her back. I was completely unprepared for what she came with and who she was. I learned. In the process I fell in love with everything OTTB. I rode a few other off-tracks, got to know them, and understood a connection that they offer that I'd never known before.

A few times I stopped everything and checked in with the family. I'm running with a dream here, but are the kids okay? Is everyone getting enough of me? I'm I juggling okay? Is my time taken from them losing more than I'm gaining? Nope. They were thriving. Adding Ben only made it better for them and included them more.

I poured over OTTB ads. Scanned through the pleas for adoptions, the "Free to good home"s, the "Please take this horse before trainer sends away" (aka slaughter). I wanted to help them all but realistically, horses live a LONG time and are not easy or cheap to keep. Any addition of horses meant needing to be prepared for decades. I didn't want to make a commitment like that beyond our own 2 horses. But I did want to help.

Chris and I had a long talk about where we wanted to go with all of this and made a choice for what our little Seven Hearts Stable would be. We will be opening our doors late autumn as an OTTB foster location. Taking one to start, then seeing how it works. Helping a horse who is coming off the track to transition to a riding horse that is ready to be adopted out to an excellent new home, so we can take-in and help another.

I'm a 33 year-old mother of 5 who is very in touch with my own mortality (an excellent bonus that comes from being a parent..yes, that's sarcasm). So will I ever be a jockey? No. I will be the very next best thing, maybe even better thing, in the whole world to me. Someone who helps save racehorses.  An after-jockey.  Yep, I just created a word.

Seven Hearts Stable is working hard to get ready for it's first OTTB foster. I can't believe my life right now and if any of you out there are "stuck" I urge you to take a look around, especially at the things you've convinced yourself you don't want anymore because in truth you believe you can't and it will hurt to be disappointed again. I can tell you change does hurt a lot and has it's terrible dark moments. Screw the hurt.  Push for the dream.

Real courage is knowing your licked before you begin, but you begin anyway. - Harper Lee