Ridin', Reinin' and Writin'

The above roughly-paraphrased quote from an unknown author embodies a sentiment I have always known to be true but of which I am reminded of from time to time. This past week was one of those times.

My connection to my horses and theirs to me has always been strong, so much so that I take little notice but sometimes what passes between us is more - telepathic, even spiritual. So palpable I can 'feel' it. I write about such a time in the blog posts, A Peace in their Presence, a morning when my mares bathed me in peace and softness, and A Filly Named Feather, how a special filly lifted me. Then, in A Life With Horses, about how four foals supported me in the only way they knew how at a particularly difficult time in my life:

I arrived back home from an overnight in Emergency at Williams Lake hospital (See I Fought Them All and They All Won) last Sunday afternoon and immediately checked my horses. I could see the four mares that pastured together in the river field waiting at the fence to greet me and I walked there first. Something was different. Although they often come for a visit, today they were more attentive. Actually, where they before asked for attention, now they were giving attention. I first noticed the change in Sapphire, my four-year-old mare. She hung at the fence longer, lowered her head to be stroked, ran her nose up and down my arm and face. Breathed on me. Generally, she and her friend, Mistral, both came to me but that day, Sapphire was more interested in me than Mistral. She wanted to be at my side.

Silk also, was unusually attentive. Her eyes never left me, her ears forward listening, her body relaxed and giving. Although she always looks at me like she really 'sees' me, now she looked at me with tenderness too. Was I imagining this? I don't think so because two days later, as I walked down the trail to the bottom, the mares met me. Silk looked at me again like that as if to say, " I am so glad to see you! I was just coming up to check..." 

I love this mare with a love that frightens me. Her soul and mine are enmeshed in a way I cannot explain. Although I have the support of friends and family, Silk is here for me every day in every way. I feel that although she does not speak. No. She does speak  . . . but in a different language . . . and I am so grateful. 

Of all the horses I have ever owned, Silk is perhaps the most intuitive. Highly intelligent with a raw energy that could scare some riders, she and I bonded the day she was born and we have not been apart for long ever since that time. She likes to know where I am and the feeling is mutual.

That these two mares of all my horses should be the ones who "gathered 'round" for the past several days should not have surprised me. Sapphire is Silk's daughter. She is also the daughter of Running With Wolves, one of the four foals in the photo above.

I didn't catch Sapphire last Sunday even though she wanted me to. On Monday, though, I relented. I turned her in the pen opposite the house, the one I can see from my window. We're both happy with that arrangement. On Tuesday I rode her to check fence/ gate in the river field. Although she is often high-spirited like her mother, looking for bears in the bush, she was not that day. She walked quietly, head down and relaxed as we circled the pasture, waded into the channel of the river and up the hill home again. Sapphire is continuing the legacy of her dam, Silk and maybe her grandmother, Tamarac, great-grandmother, Mahogany, and great-great grandmother, Duchess. All those fine mares "carried me" in good times and in challenging ones.

To some of my readers, this may seem like a lot of nonsense; others will understand perfectly. As I heal and adjust to a new reality, I value even more the company of my horses, who give back more than I can ever give to them. They breathe on my heart.   

Although late morning, the air holds a chill - after all it is still March - and the rails I lean on are slippery with frost. Not a breathe of breeze stirs the towering tops of the Douglas firs but I can hear the soft twitterings of a few birds in the branches. I look down at the river, frozen yet, so still now, so swift in the summer. I turn my face to the sun to soak up the welcome warmth.

Is the deep sense of tranquillity I am feeling born of these surroundings? I ponder that for a moment ... until I look into the eyes of my favourite mare, Silk, standing in the sun on the other side of those slippery, frosty rails. I know then that the peace settling into my body emanates from her and the other two other mares beside her. One by one, all three come to the fence; one by one, they each gently touch me with their nose. I look around me - all my horses, in pens around the yard, emit off that same quiet energy.

I've often said that I love where I live because it is so peaceful, but in fact, it probably doesn't matter where I call home. Since I have always had and always will have horses living with me, I will always know that serenity if I am aware because it is they who provide that. Of course I have always known that but this morning I felt the shroud of peace - as real and tangible as the horses themselves.

"It's simple enough," I think. "There is peace in their presence." 

Yesterday I rode down the hill from my house to check my property gates and fences. It was the first ride of the year for Legacy. I had pulled her out of the herd, saddled her and stepped on. She was all right with all of that, but when we left the buildngs, she missed her buddies. As we wound down the hill to the river field, she whinnied several times. The noise shattered the silence ... and the peace of my solitary ride.

After the fence check, I followed the bank of the river (the Chilcotin) for a stretch before heading home. I looked for the geese who nest there every spring, but didn't see them. Finally, the steady hum and the lapping of waves on two huge rocks in the river, worked its magic. Time slowed ... and stopped. I got off Legacy, tied her to the lone poplar by the river and sat on the bank. I should be living by this river, I thought.

The river has not risen yet, revealing banks strewn with rocks washed by millions of gallons of running water. I couldn't resist. I had to add to the little piles of river rock on the bank, piles I had made on other rides. I really didn't have time to dally by the river (My student would arrive in a half hour), but I did. With Legacy tied to the poplar, I walked along the banks looking for smooth flat ones until my arms were full. I even found a large piece of jade!

As I stumbled through the rocks, I felt like I was being watched. I was. When I looked up, I saw Legacy had company. Whisper and Silk, her pasture buddies, had joined us. All three silently stood on the bank staring down at me. The river had worked its magic on them too. They stood as one, in perfect harmony with nature and themselves.

Clutching the jade in one hand, I reluctantly mounted Legacy and walked away from the river. I'll be back.