Expectations and Reality

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Having just followed the 2010 NRHA Futurity (with Facebook posts by Canadian friends before they left, then en route to Oklahoma City with their horses and live score and web casts on the NRHA web site), one fact I already knew was never more clear - expectations and reality can be a long way apart! Reiners probably already know that. Spectators and fans may not.

Most of the horses shown in the Futurity, I had not seen in person. Most of them I had not even heard of. But there were also some I had competed against and several I had read about before that big event - horses that had already won a big futurity somewhere or a horse the breeder was promoting. And I pre-judged the performance of some just because of who was showing him or her. I'm pretty sure others did the same, maybe even owners and riders. Certainly, Shawn Flarida's stellar record commands attention, so of course, expectations were higher for his mounts. After all, he usually qualified all three of his entries for the finals and, for the past few years, he has won all the major events.

But Mr. Flarida did not bring one of his entries back to the finals. "One of the other two will win," I thought. Quistator had been advertised as a strong contender all fall. Shine Chic Shine's composite score led the field into the finals.

Then there was Duane Latimer, a past Champion, who qualified Whiz N Tag Chex horses, brothers to my own Walking With Wolves. I wanted him to win . . . There was Andrea Fappani, another past Champion, who won the $100,000 Shoot Out and whose wife won the Non Pro Futurity the day before the Open Finals. He was on a roll! Tim McQuay, Craig Schmersal, also fan favourites.

But when the last rider completed pattern #5, it was not any one of these favourites that posted the highest score. It was Spooks Gotta Whiz, ridden by Jordan Larson. Did he expect to win that day? I don't know, but the reality is that he did. It was the prettiest, softest run I have seen for a long time, the horse at all time willing and striving to please.

Tanya Jenkins, who trained Spooks Gotta Whiz, experienced her own reality. She expected to be showing Spooks Gotta Whiz in Oklahoma City at the NRHA Futurity (I found documentation of this on the internet and she had shown him in other futurities) but the reality is - she did not. It reminds me a little of Zenyatta's race at the Breeders Cup Classic - it didn't play out the way it was supposed to. If it had, a woman could have won the NRHA Futurity for the first time!

Expectations and reality - sometimes the same thing, but more often, not. Never more true than in the horse business, especially with three- year-old reining horses.

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More About Duchess

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After reading over my last blog, I realized I had not begun to cover Duchess' life. She was in mine for 34 of her 36 years - through raising my family, my children growing up and leaving home, two marriages, a divorce, and several moves. That's a whole lot of time and history.

I bought Duchess (registered name Ma Dear) in Montana and named her immediately. She was a grand lady. She would have a grand name. She lived up to it.

Since Duchess was bred to race, I sent her to the track the spring after I bought her. She performed very well winning 2 firsts, 1 second, 1 third and 1 fourth (didn't like mud!) from five races. The photo below is her win in High River, Alberta.

When we brought her home from the track, I bred her to War Fly and sold the weanling to re-coup some of the expense. Then I started training her on barrels. As noted in the previous blog, she excelled at that event.

Besides her stellar barrel racing career, Duchess performed briefly as a steer wrestling horse for my brother. I think he won one cheque on her from the 3 or 4 times he dogged off of her. She also served time as a ranch horse on the Community Pasture my husband managed. And my daughter, Cindy, rode her until she had her own horse.

Duchess raised seven foals. One, Wildwood Willow, went on to become a top barrel horse. Another, Wildwood Majesty, a superb all-around mare. But it was Wildwood Mahogany who would carry Duchess' genes to the next generation and beyond. It was a sensible, logical and practical approach to my plan to breed such soundness of mind and limb into my future contenders. At thirty plus years, Duchess was more sound than some horses half her age! Video below is Duchess at 33.

In 2001, I held a 35th birthday party for my lady. Here is some video from that day. Bright of eye and quick of step, she was not-at-all an old mare - she was a grand dam.


Then, in 2002, she reigned supreme for she was the head of five generations. Here is another video of Duchess that year - the grand matriarch of a dynasty of fine Quarter Horses. She leaves a legacy - and Widwood Legacy is named for her that year, the year she died. Legacy will be adding to the dynasty in 2011 - the first of the next generation of Duchess.

Though Duchess may be remembered by others for her talent, I remember her most for her personality - her quiet confidence, her intelligence, the way she looked at me like she saw me and understood everything about me. She had a distinct way of looking back at me - she turned her head, neck very low, and kind of looked in and up - hard to explain. And her whinny... deep-throated and resonant, never shrill. I have a recording of that whinny. Once in a while I play it. If I could, I would share with you but I don't think I can attach the file.

When Duchess died, my children could not believe she was gone. She had been part of their lives for all of their lives. I knew how they felt. In could hardly remember a time when Duchess was not in close proximity. I still miss her.

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Remembering Duchess...

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The Canadian Finals Rodeo is just over. I tried in vain to find coverage on television but, since I could not, contented myself with whatever news I could find on the computer . . . and memories. I have fond memories of CFR - Duchess and I competed at the first one in 1974. I will never forget that week . . . or that great mare.

I had ran on the circuit all year to make the barrel racing top ten in Canada and go to the finals. Goal achieved, it didn't matter to me if I made any money. I was just happy to be there. Duchess had already secured the Canadian Cowboys Association championship; now she would compete with the top horses in Canada. It was an honour to be part of what still is an annual event.

Duchess was not at her best, though. A sporadic lameness in her right front concerned me. Before I hauled to Edmonton, I had a veterinarian check her out. He did not think competing would make the condition worse (what was I thinking?) so, armed with lots of rubbing linement and bandages, I hauled to Edmonton for six runs. She entered the finals in seventh place and finished in fifth - with her knee bandaged! The photos from all six runs were almost identical to the one below, right ear ahead, left ear back to me and in the pocket!

After the CFR, I took Duchess to Saskatoon to have her knee x-ayed. The x-rays revealed bone chips and calcium deposits. I had to lay her off. I turned her out for a year and she came back sound. Although I barrel raced her lightly for one more season, I feared heavy competition might damage the knee permanently. In 1977, I bred her and she went on to found a dynasty of quality Quarter Horses. The photo below, taken in 1999, shows Duchess with her daughter, Mahogany, granddaughter Tamarac and Tamarac's first six fillies.

After Duchess retired from raising foals, she babysat the broodmares and their babies. She always told us when a mare's time was near. She also taught my grandchildren to ride. Below is a photo of Kendra on Duchess when she was 32.

When she was 35 years old, I threw a birthday party for her. She was still sound. The photo below is taken on that day.

In 2002, four descendent generations of Duchess lived with me - Wildwood Mahogany, Wildwood Tamarac, Wildwood Destiny and Wildwood Magic Miss, all mares I had trained and shown. For her 36th birthday present that year I made her a memory box and stored Duchess memorablia inside. It's covered inside and out with a collage of photos and clippings. She died later that year, but what a dynasty she has founded. The photo below, taken in 1999, shows some of her family. Duchess and Mahogany are at the back.

In the spring of 2011, the next generation will arrive. Her great-great granddaughter, Wildwood Legacy Lace is in foal to Walking With Wolves. God willing, I will ride another descendent of probably the best mare I ever owned. I can't wait.

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First in our Hearts

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A few weeks ago, I posted a blog named "Born to Be" (September), recognizing people with incredible God-given talent. Born to be great. Born to be the best. Born to achieve what the rest of us only dream about. As humbling as that is, it's even more so when the star is an animal. Never has this been more true than it is for Zenyatta, a six year old Thoroughbred mare with almost unbelievable talent.


Zenyatta, unbeaten for 19 races and entered in the Breeders Cup held last weekend, has inspired a following such as has not been seen since Seabiscuit (check out March blog). The world has latched on to her story with a desperation born of a need to believe and a deep abiding love of this dark bay mare, not only for her record on the track, but also for her personality. At 17.2 hands, she is a bit of a diva, dancing, prancing, and racing her way into almost everyone's life, even those who do not follow horse racing. She loves attention and believes in herself, inspiring such nicknames as "Queen Zee" and "America's Darling".

Last Saturday, Zenyatta challenged the boys in the Breeders Cup Classic in Louisville, Kentucky. Surrounded by fanfare and guards, she soaked it up like the heroine she is. There could be no doubt she knew who she was and what she was going to do. There was also no doubt in my mind that she intended to win the race, that she herself had no doubt about her ability to do just that. After all, she had always led the field to the finish line. But it was not to be. After an extremely slow start, even her signature "kick" to the finish line did not overtake Blame. Slightly boxed in, she desperately searched for a hole and when she found it, leaped into it, grabbing ground and closing the gap to the leader with every stride (with thousands, including me, screaming their encouragement to the telvision), only to fall short by a head. It may have been the best race of her career, the most courageous and most remembered. Best of all, she will retire sound and healthy.

I hope Zenyatta is not too disappointed with her loss. It in no way diminishes who she is or who we know she is. She may not have won the Breeders Cup Classic, but it was hers! Second in the race but first in our hearts.

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Trick or Treat

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Yesterday was Halloween. I left all the outside lights on and locked my truck in the shop, but all was quiet. That's good. That's the way I like it now. I must be getting old...

I used to dress up and go out. I loved the idea of being something or someone else for one night. But for the past few years, I have done nothing special. Last night, I spent a quiet evening by myself reminiscing about Halloweens past...

As a child, in the Coteau Hills of Saskatchewan, I did not go "trick or treating". When the family moved to BC, I went door to door in Oliver with a group of kids a few times. It was as an adult that the spirit of Halloween really hit me.

My husband, having grown up in a family that loved the "trick" part of Halloween, involved me in a couple of pranks - saddling a milk cow (I was sure we were going to be caught since the dog never quit barking!), jacking a car up in a garage and putting it on blocks (so it would not go anywhere when the lady tried to drive it out). The most complicated - and stupid! - prank I was part of though, was when a carload of us, in the dead of night, drove to a farm owned by a farmer friend that was well-known to "act first, think later". The plan, to spread out all over the farm, make just enough noise to wake him, hide, then watch the reaction, took an unexpected turn when one of our group came back to the car, got the shotgun he had stashed in the trunk, pointed it to the sky and shot it off! It was double the fun, a trick on the tricksters - the farmer boiled out of the house, into his truck and peeled rubber getting to his machinery; the pranksters, thinking it was the farmer who had shot the gun, panicked. They certainly popped out of the grass so they wouldn't get run over. When shotgun pellets dropped to earth all around my husband, he didn't seek obscurity any longer. He ran to the house and identified himself to the farmer's wife. The farmer, meanwhile, reached the car but the bearer of the shotgun had put it away. Where was I in all this? At the car. I think I made the excuse that I was not dressed for crawling around on the ground, but I may have just been chicken... Since we were all friends, we ended up in the house for coffee. There were plenty of unaswered questions and no one quite believed the other guy since no one knew where the gun shot had come from except the guy who had done it and me, because I had stayed in the car. I think he had the last laugh that night. As I said, this was a really stupid thing to do - someone could have been run over with the madman farmer, gas pedal to the floorboards, made wide circles in the field!
To protect the innocent, I have not identified anyone. For those of you who know me and are wondering, you would be surprised to know who had the shot gun...

As the years went by, I left the pranks behind for costume parties. My boyfriend and I were Shiek and Harem Girl, African Headhunters and 17th Century Lord and Lady.The best ever was the Africans. We visited a couple of bars, then danced our bare feet off at the local dance. At 3:00 AM, I could barely stand in the shower to scrub the "black" off before I went to bed. The next day a client phoned to see if he could watch me ride his mare (like I felt like doing that!). He said he could see traces of black on my neck still.



The last time I dressed up for Halloween, Vern Sapergia, my friend Barb, and I dressed as Little Red Riding Hood, Grandma, and The Big Bad Wolf. Vern Sapergia was Little Red Riding Hood! We visited several friends around Armstrong but never identified ourselves. Sorry - no photo. I tried, but apparently I did not have film in the camera. What a shame!

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Never "Just a Dog..."

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I am deviating from the title of this blog . . . or maybe not. I guess it could come under the "writin'" category. Every Monday, I write about what has been most on my mind during the week and this time is no different. Dogs have been uppermost in my thoughts, specifically dogs that have been a part of my life. There's a reason for that. My Samoyed, Kirby, is not getting around well and I know I will have to make that tough decision soon. That fact has brought up memories of some very special canine friends.

1. Chummy. I don't remember Chummy very well - only vague memories of my brother and I playing with her. What made a big impact was her death. My brother and I found her lying on the grass very still and, of course, ran to Mom. There was no explanation for why she died. This is Chummy lying beside Dad holding me on Tex.

2. Duke. This golden cocker spanial male was our childhood buddy. Wherever we were, Duke was not far away. Mom could always find us that way! I remember most him playing hide and seek with us. He would wait until we hid, then come and find us. Oddly enough, I do not know how he died, but he was with us a long time. Photo below (Why am I scowling?) was in Saskatchewan, the next is in BC.

3. Tuffy. This little black terrier cross was a bundle of energy. The story I remember most is how he learned to "Go to the house." Apparently, Mom and Dad had rounded up a bunch of yearlings and were trying to get them through a gate into the barn yard. As yearlings usually are, they were plenty spooky and it was all Mom and Dad could do to hold them together at the gate to start pushing them through. That's when Tuffy appeared . . . and would not "go to the house" as Mom ordered him to do. Of course, they lost the yearlings who scattered. Furious, Mom chased Tuffy on horseback (with Dad telling her to stop or she was going to fall on the slippery, icy ground) until Tuffy didn't know where else to go BUT the house. After that, anyone could tell him to "go to the house" and he tucked his tail between his legs and left.

Mom taught Tuffy mutiple tricks and I taught him one - to "sing" Doggie in the Window with me. I played guitar and sang the lyrics; at the appropriate time, Tuffy barked. Really cute. I thought I had a picture of this somewhere, but I can't find it. We had Tuffy many, many years - until he was old and grey. I believe he was killed by a car after I left home.


4. Hind. I inherited this border collie with the strange name when I married. Hind was my husband's cattle dog, but we very quickly became attached. My very favourite story about Hind is the time he disappeared from my parents' ranch where my husband and I lived for the winter months in 1964-65. When my husband could not find him anywhere, he started thinking about the last time he had seen him.

"I was checking a cow with a new calf on the other side of the lake yesterday," he said, "I told him to lie down and stay..." And that's where Hind was - still lying down in the grass where he had been told to "stay".

At two years old, Hind was already a great cattle dog. He was going to be fantastic, but his life was cut short when he chased a rabbit into the path of a car. When I was told, my mind could not take it in. Another dog lived on the ranch and I think I thought that was the one who was killed. Only when I repeated the news to my husband, did I comprehend. Photo below is Hind with our young son. It is the only photo I could find of this wonderful, kind, intelligent and gentle dog.

Losing Hind devastated me and I did not get another dog for a few years. When I did, I bought a Samoyed puppy. I have had Samoyeds ever since.

To be continued next week - Samoyeds in my life.

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