Horse Tales for the Soul, Volume 5

By Bonnie Marlewski-Probert

Debbie Granger has an amazing story of how, in her 50's, she decided to go to a dude ranch fora week with some girlfriends. Of course, Deb hadn't been in the saddle in decades so you can imagine how sore she was after that first day's ride. However, not only did Deb have the time of her life, but she fell in love with the plain ranch horse she was paired up with. She struck up a friendship with that animal that lasted for several years. What is most amazing about Deb's story is that she e-mailed me after the book was published and we were preparing to do the audio version, that she was thankful that we had published her story so that she could "leave something behind for the grandchildren she didn't already have, just in case she wasn't here to greet them when they did. She wanted them to know two things: their grandmother had spunk and THEY came from good stock! Deb's statement sums up why we did the Horse Tales for the Soul series in the first place. After realizing how important horses had been to my own development as a woman, I wanted to share that experience with others and thanks to people like Deb and hundreds of other horsemen from around the globe, we have accomplished that goal. Volume 5 brings you 46 true stories that are sure to touch your heart. Some will have you laughing out loud, others will remind you of your own experiences in your life while still others will bring a tear to your eye, but you will love all the stories within these covers!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Bonnie Marlewski-Probert
• Release date: Jul 3, 2015
• ISBN: 9781310634000

Bonnie Marlewski-Probert

Bonnie Marlewski-Probert is the author of more than 20 books and more than 1000 magazine articles. She is a national speaker, a horsewoman, a teacher and a big supporter of animal-related non-profits. She is NOT political. She is NOT an activist. She is a girl from the Midwest who owes her career to her work with animals and does everything she can to pay that forward. As a result, we works with dog & cat shelters and Therapeutic Riding Centers across the USA, helping to educate them on how to be more successful so they can expand the important work they are already doing.Bonnie started her career in writing as a how-to magazine writer who taught "riding lessons" through her two syndicated columns in more than 30 horse publications across North America. From there, she branched out to mainstream magazines, writing on a wide variety of topics outside of the animal world. That led to book deals, how-to videos, TV/Radio and National speaking engagements, which all, ultimately led to her starting her own book publishing firm in the early 90's. Since then, Bonnie has published the writings of hundreds of authors from around the globe and continues to do so today. She balances her time between publishing, helping animal-related non-profits and her newest guilty pleasure, writing novels.

Book preview

Dedication

This book is dedicated to all the authors within who were generous enough to share a part of their heart with the rest of us. The stories within this book are pages from the real lives of horse lovers around the world. I hope that you will be touched by, learn from, and be changed for the better by these wonderful stories just as I have!

As always, I need to thank Susan Stafford for her wonderful, patient editing. I know I drive Susan NUTTY because I insist on leaving the stories alone as much as possible. I believe that no one is as qualified as the author, to tell their own story and for that reason, I ask Susan to edit as little as possible. These are real people, telling their real stories and I want readers to hear the story as it was told by its author - from the heart. Kristen Spinning of Kromatiks in Tucson Arizona for her distinctive cover art and my British hubby Keith who is far and away the most patient man on the planet!

Bonnie Marlewski-Probert

Introduction

Horse Tales for the Soul, Volume Five

I am forever amazed that we have published so many volumes of the Horse Tales for the Soul series of books. Each one is unique. Each one will have you laughing and crying, but most of all, they will all touch your heart in a special way. Because the Horse Tales for the Soul series has been so popular and touched so many lives in a positive way, we are preparing to stretch our wings and launch our first, Dog Tales for the Soul book!

I am especially excited about this volume of Horse Tales for the Soul for several reasons:

• In keeping with the tradition started in previous volumes, we have a mother and daughter who are sharing their stories in this book. Jan Canavan and her mom Laura Moore each have stories in volume five! You are going to love their work!

• Thanks to the brilliant idea from one of the Horse Tales authors, we have set up several fund raising programs on our website, http://horsetalesforthesoul.com or http://funding101.org. The programs are designed for 4-H clubs, Therapeutic Riding Programs, Rescues, Shelters and any animal-related non-profit groups who need help raising funds. I’m especially excited about the idea that in addition to touching your heart with these wonderful stories, the Horse Tales books can continue to give back by helping such worthy causes raise funds so they can continue to give back to their communities!

• And Finally, Elizabeth Berry, who is a very talented writer, agreed to allow me to break up one of her wonderful stories and instead, use them as inserts between each chapter in the book. You are sure to notice them as they are very funny little insights into the mind of the Horse!

I hope you enjoy the stories within volume five as much as I have enjoyed bringing them to you! As always, I recommend you invest in a box of tissues before you start reading!

Photo Opportunity

Written by: Lillian Shupe

Besides my great love of horses, I love photography. I got my first camera when I was about ten.

Mostly, I took pictures of my animals. It was not until after tenth grade that I had a horse to ride and of course, to photograph. I took care of several backyard horses for an older couple. In exchange, I got to ride an Appaloosa called App whenever I wanted.

Since I was soon headed off to college, I knew my time with App would be short and every minute was precious. Realizing that, I sought to preserve as many memories on film as possible, so I often carried a camera with me as I headed out on the trails.

I rode on land that was buffer property between some chemical plants and the housing developments, as well as public watershed area. One day, I stopped at a field of long, golden grasses and untacked my horse. I took pictures of him from all angles as he grazed. The photos look like they were taken out in the middle of the plains of Kansas. You can’t tell that it was actually taken in one of the most densely populated areas of New Jersey, in the shadow of major industry. Ah, the magic of the camera!

I tacked my horse up again and we headed towards the reservoir area. I envisioned photos of App running on the shore just like in the movies or in those fancy horse calendars. I figured that was as close to the beach as we were ever going to get. I waited until the evening sky was turning a bright orange-red. I had planned just enough time to get the picture, re-tack and get back to the barn before it got dark.

I picked a spot where the bank was wide and level and again took the saddle and bridle off. I did get a picture of App against the backdrop of the golden sunset, but he was grazing. I really wanted an action shot, however, so I led App down to the water’s edge and let him go. Then I turned and jogged along the shore to put some distance between us.

App stood there and watched me. I called to him, but he just stood there, looking puzzled.

Cupping my hand under his chin, I led him up and down along the shoreline at a jog so he would get the idea. After a few passes, I let go and ran back up the hill to get far enough away to take the picture. At first App followed me; then, gaining speed, he blew right past me. Before I knew it, he was in a full gallop and headed for home. I screamed whoa! but he never even flicked an ear.

As I watched my ride home head over the hill, I suddenly remembered the camera that was still in my hand. I got off one shot before the gelding disappeared over the ridge. Then reality hit. I was at least two miles from home, it was getting dark and I now had all my tack to carry back. I gathered up my saddle, extra-thick saddle pad and the bridle and started to trudge home. Although my saddle was considered lightweight, it alone weighed 25 pounds and carrying it along with the saddle pad was awfully awkward. I slung the bridle over my shoulder, but each time it slid down to my elbow, I tripped over the reins. At the rate I was going, it was going to take me hours to get back to the barn.

My only consolation was that there was no one around to see what a stupid thing I had done - or so I thought. I had only gone an eighth of a mile or so when a white van pulled up on the reservoir access road. The driver poked his head out and watched me struggling along.

Now, I knew it was not a safe thing for a teenage girl to accept rides from strange men, but the driver recognized App as the horse galloped past him. He also knew the owners by name. The man offered me a ride and I nervously accepted. I knew that App would make it home soon and the owners would be wondering why he was returning without a rider. The less time they had to wonder, the better. If I got back soon enough, I might be able to slip my horse back into the pasture without anybody noticing.

I loaded my stuff into the van and in a few minutes I was back at the barn. App was already safely in the pasture, so I knew I had been found out. I checked him over as he watched me with a glint in his eye as if he had just played a very funny practical joke on me. Then I sheepishly explained to the puzzled owners what had happened. They were just thankful I was okay.

I have many fond memories (and plenty of photos) from the adventures App and I shared. I still have the last photo I took that particular summer day. Amidst the blurry landscape you can just barely make out the rear view of a gray horse with a dark mane and tail heading through the tall grasses. It was not the last photo session, although in future I made sure I was a bit closer to home before releasing my subject. I also rode bareback – just in case.

Lillian Shupe

Biography: Lillian Shupe is Senior Contributing Editor of Horse News, a regional monthly newspaper based in New Jersey. Although a horseless member, she excelled in 4-H and earned a trip to compete in the Horse Bowl at the Eastern National 4-H Horse Roundup, among other achievements. She is now a 4-H leader.

Chapter One

Mentors

In My Life

Lessons From The Old Man

Written by: Rebecca Cherie’ Earhart

I could hear my husband hollering from the front of the house, Bec, did you close the Old Man’s stall door?

Yes, I yelled back from the kitchen.

Did he open it again?

Yup, he’s standing in the barn door looking at the house, came the reply.

That darn horse! I’m going to start padlocking his gate closed. The Old Man was a 23-year-old, purebred, snow-white Arabian gelding that was more clown than horse. His official registered name was Faklr Ibul Raybin, or Raybin for short, but to us he was The Old Man.

We had been through this routine many times before. As I walked to the barn, there he would be … posing in all his glory. Manure and mud stains were all over his white coat, cockle burrs stuck in his forelock, apple juice slime all over his muzzle and dancing black eyes that seemed to say, What took you so long to notice I was loose?

Seeing the revolting slimy green foam on his face, I knew where he had been. His favorite trick was running to the old apple tree in our back yard and eating as many fallen apples as he could before you noticed he was loose. I would say to him, Old Man, what am I going to do with you? Then he’d rub his head on my shoulder and wipe disgusting apple gunk all over my shirt. You old fart, get back in your stall! On that note, he would turn around and swagger back into his stall. This was the routine and we had it memorized.

Raybin was 11 years old when I bought him. He had been shown a bit by his previous owners, but was left to pasture for three years prior to joining our family. During this time, he developed the hygienic habits of a wart hog. I’ll never forget the first time we cleaned him all up and put a show saddle on him. I was astonished at the transformation. He looked like an Oprah Winfrey makeover. He was absolutely magnificent when he was clean. Too bad he didn’t stay that way. As soon as you turned him out to pasture, he’d find the biggest manure/mud hole and promptly cover every square inch of himself with muck. If you wanted him to stay clean for a show or trail ride, you bathed him, then tied him in his stall. I learned that lesson the hard way. Our first show required three baths before I finally caught on.

Next Lesson - You never hooked up the trailer before catching him. You didn’t dare look at the trailer, or even think about the trailer. That old scalawag knew what you were thinking. He’d prance around just out of reach of the halter, then bolt across the pasture at a dead run. It was bad enough that you couldn’t catch him, but he herded everyone else away from the barn with him. Then, standing at the bottom of the hill, he would watch…and wait to see what your next move would be. Food didn’t work, bribes didn’t work, threats didn’t work – you just had to outsmart him and that wasn’t easy. Once you finally had the old goat in the barn, he’d walk right into the trailer with no problem.

Life was a game to the Old Man and you were his worthy and sometimes unwilling opponent. He was a good sport and he never took cheap shots. He played by the rules and expected you to follow suit. The only problem was, he made the rules. I would love to see how John Lyons or Monty Roberts would have handled this clever character. Why should he join up with you, when he expected you to join up with him. That was the rule. I finally gave up trying to reform the old reprobate and just let him have his way.

I’ll never forget our first show together. Being totally green in the ring, I didn’t realize that the Old Man listened to the ring announcer and anticipated the commands. When the man on the PA system said, Canter your horses, Raybin vaulted into the canter before I had a chance to process the information in my brain and properly set him up. He took matters upon himself and unfortunately wound up on the wrong lead. Later in the event, we found ourselves behind a prominent and highly respected Quarter Horse. We were at the trot and this lazy equine was in a peanut-rolling contest. I lightly reined my trusty steed to pass, but the Old Man had different ideas. With his nose, Raybin gave the peanut-pusher a none-too-gentle shove in the butt that sent the equine staggering. The Old Man was delighted with his newly acquired position as ring boss when they immediately let him pass. However, I was mortified as the other rider turned and gave me a withering stare. Lesson: The Old Man didn’t care if your horse had impeccable bloodlines, your daddy had money and you’ve won every class you’ve entered. He figured he could boss everyone in the ring just like he bossed everyone at our house.

I only showed him a few times after that. Most of those times turned out to be lessons in comedy. For instance, there was the time I entered him in the pick-up race at the Friday night fun show. The Old Man could run like the wind and I got the bright idea of making a games horse out of him. What was I thinking? I should have checked with him first to make sure it was okay. After practicing in the warm-up ring with my partner, who was the teenage son of a friend, I thought we had it down pat enough that we wouldn’t embarrass ourselves in the arena. Little did I know that the Old Man had different ideas.

With the stadium lights illuminating the dark summer sky and the stands bursting with spectators, the Old Man and I entered the ring at a slow, controlled canter. I knew we looked fabulous; me with my new Stetson hat and matching pearl gray suede chaps, Raybin with a new sterling silver show bridle and matching saddle blanket. Flashing a confident smile to the crowd, I gave him the queue to gallop. However, he continued to slowly canter across the ring. Surprised at his uncharacteristic response, I slapped him on the hip with the reins. Nevertheless, his mind was made up, and with neck and tail majestically arched, we gracefully cantered to the other end of the arena to pick up the other rider. Mike was able to swing up into the saddle without any mishaps and we proceeded back to the finish line. As we passed the grandstands, the Old Man decided to liven up the show a bit. That’s when he started to buck. Not a malicious buck intended to throw us off, just enough to entertain the spectators. And that he did! With the crowd laughing and cheering, we finally crossed the finish line…in last place. Lesson: Don’t take yourself too seriously. The magnitude of the Old Man’s antics was always in direct proportion to the size of his audience.

After that embarrassing moment, I decided that the Old Man’s career as a games horse was finished and the show ring was probably not his calling. So we focused on Raybin becoming an exceptional trail horse. But even that was not without some more important lessons learned.

We had just returned to the trailer after a large club ride. Raybin’s halter was still hooked to the lead rope, which was still tied to the trailer. I pulled his bridle off and tried to put his halter on. The only problem was, the Old Man was standing about two inches shy of reaching the halter. I gently nudged him forward. Instead, he looked me square in the eye and took one step backwards. I swear the old scoundrel was snickering as he did it. He stood there intently watching me while I pondered my next move. I knew the rope wouldn’t stretch far enough and I couldn’t hold him with one arm and unhook the halter with the other hand. So I calmly let go of him and unhooked the halter from the rope. Then, in a flash, he sprang