“Horse People” by Leslie Steeves

Prancer

I’ve always been puzzled by the intense, unwavering love horse people have for an animal that is far removed from the usual warm and fuzzy, purring pet. While most people prefer an in-house pet that offers snuggles, horse people prefer an “in-barn” pet that often needs coaxing or a strong lead line.

The thought of getting close to a 1,000-pound animal, which I believe could cause great injury with one simple flick of its tail, frightens me, but horse people somehow ignore such dangers.

I witnessed this affection for horses at a young age as my two older sisters were passionate horse people. One sister married a farmer and in no time a vacant field was filled with horses, a shed was converted to a barn and – no surprise – five new horse people were born.

Observing my nieces in their horse world opened my eyes to how much joy a horse can give someone.

During one farm visit, I had the opportunity to watch my sisters ride their horses around their riding ring. Smiling, giggling, going forward, backwards, clockwise, counterclockwise – they rode with absolute delight!

Despite this, I was still not convinced that I wanted to be a part of the horse world, nor did I think it best to expose my daughter to it.

But that reality changed once her Auntie gave my daughter a pony book and a toy pony for her second birthday.

Suddenly her interest shifted from the science-based learning toys and books I was offering to doe-eyed, pastel-coloured ponies.

I recall one bedtime when after sitting quietly through my reading of a book on shapes, my daughter reached under her pillow and passed me the pony book. I couldn’t refuse her sweet, pleading eyes. So, I read, and as I read, she snuggled close. With each page she touched the pony and made the click-click sound. 

I knew at that moment that I needed to embrace the horse world in our home.

In no time, horse-related toys and books became a priority and were piled high on my daughter’s bed. I heard neighing sounds daily as she rode her imaginary horse around our house in the usual one leg forward skip with her hands holding invisible reins. Daily horse play at her toy stable became our together moments.

Her enthusiasm thrilled me, but made me nervous of where it would lead.

The thoroughbred

My fear was well-founded. Before long my sister propelled us along the next step in our horse adventure by offering us a free horse from a rescue group – a thoroughbred, no less. Before I could oppose such a move, arrangements were made and in less than two weeks my daughter was standing in our driveway holding the reins of a large ex-race horse. 

There was no mistaking her excitement, and in a flash of responsibility, she pledged to care for both horses.

Yes, both horses – the one we’d just acquired and the next one we now needed to acquire.

As horse people know, horses are herd animals and you can never have just one. My nervousness instantly doubled.

Once the word got out in the local horse world that we were looking for a rescue companion horse, we were offered a Standardbred from Newfoundland. And (accepting my doom) we took on this second horse.

As the two horses stood in our field, I wondered, had I now become a horse person? I was experiencing the true definition of the words “daily chores” and I could wing my way through simple horse talk, but feeling comfortable and desiring to be around them was not in my heart.

But Prancer, our new Standardbred, gave me another glimpse into horsey love. Prancer came with an assortment of horse care items – brushes, a halter, a horse blanket – all in pink! All items had hearts and “I love you Prancer” messages written on them. Someone, most likely a child, had clearly loved this horse.

This made me question – why, if the horse was loved so much, did it now need to be rescued? Apparenlty, love for a horse is shallow and easily expires as life changes.

I remained snug in this harsh opinion until I received a Facebook message from a woman in Newfoundland asking if I knew where a Standardbred horse named Prancer was.

Assuming this was just a simple inquiry related to her rescue, I replied that Prancer was currently eating grass in our front field.

I was stunned as this confirmation was met with an explosion of emotion – heart, tears, happy face emojis’ dotted returning messages.

The young girl who had bought and decorated Prancer’s pink accessories had grown up and was searching for her. She explained that Prancer had been sold to someone who, unable to care for the horse, had contacted the rescue organization.

As I listened to this woman’s story, the intensity of her feelings took me aback. Relief and love were having an emotional battle in her mind as her love for this horse resurfaced.

At some point she presented the idea to me that I was so lucky to have such a beautiful horse. Noting that she’d never mentioned Prancer’s size or stubbornness (both huge), I started to realize that she saw an animal that would come to greet her, follow her lead and nuzzle her as she rubbed under their chin.

Being kicked or bitten by Prancer was not on her mind.

After our correspondence, I went into the field with two carrots and walked along the fence line. Both horses came stampeding over. Rather than throw the carrots on the ground, I raised my arms and held them out.

My breath stopped as their teeth crunched right through the two-inch diameter carrots. I stood still as they finished their snack. They instinctively moved closer for more. I didn’t dare look up at them.

Eventually, realizing I had no more carrots to give, the thoroughbred turned and walked away but Prancer hesitated. Her nose was inches from my shoulder. I raised my hand and touched under her chin. She stretched her neck and I rubbed the tender cavity. I looked up and we made eye contact. She liked me touching her!

Am I now a horse person? I certainly qualify, having recently help carry 160 square bales of hay to the hay mow! But more importantly I can relate to those pleasurable moments horse people have.

Will I continue to have intimate encounters with our horses? Probably. But just to be safe, I’ll stay near the fence.

***

Leslie Steeves has enjoyed her regular writing moments since retiring from teaching. Her adventures in the New Brunswick countryside are often a catalyst for her writings. She lives with her husband, dog and two “friendly” rescue horses. 

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