The Visit

As the days counted down to go visit the filly, I spent a lot of time explaining to my daughter that we were going to look at a horse for me, but that we were just looking, not buying.  (Note to self:  Do not give my daughter any advance notice of going to look at a horse.  She was a bundle of energy and asked questions all day every day.  It was exhausting...)  

When the day came to meet the filly, my daughter and I got in the truck and drove about an hour to my friend's house.  And I spent the whole drive alternately reminding first myself and then Gemma that we were just going to look at the horse, not necessarily buy her.  I had wanted to bring a friend with me for moral support and to give me feedback, but in the age of COVID-19, probably the fewer people the better, so I was on my own when it came to impulse control.  Plus I had a little more faith in myself now than I did when I was buying Nimo 17 years ago.  (That faith was probably misplaced, because really I love all horses, and the little girl who wants all the horses is still inside me...)

My friend was keeping the filly with a couple of other horses in a large, remote pasture, so we all piled into her truck with her husband and drove out to the pasture.  The horses were out of sight when we got to the pasture gate, so my friend called them.  At first, we didn't see anything, but maybe 30 seconds later, one horse and then another and another appeared galloping out of the trees.  When they arrived at the gate, my friend brought out the grain bucket she had brought to reward them for coming and I witnessed the most surprising thing.  All of the horses happily shared the grain.  There was no ear pinning or face-making or biting or kicking or posturing.  The little filly, who was with a 10-year old mare and a 6-year old gelding, actually got the first bite.  I think that is the first time in my life when I felt completely comfortable being with loose horses in a field.

Once, when I was in my mid-twenties, I got in the way when a mare attacked my horse in the field.  The attack came from behind me, so I didn't see it coming.  When it was over, I was on the ground with five hoof-sized hematomas that took over two years to completely heal.  I'm probably lucky that the damage wasn't worse, but I spent many weeks in excruciating pain, and I've never trusted horses in a field since then.  In fact, I was so thankful that when Nimo grew up, he was always the alpha horse in the herd.  I never had to worry that I would be attacked because he always kept the other horses at a distance when I would go to catch him.

But my friend's horses were so well-behaved that I even felt comfortable with my daughter in the field near them.  In fact, at one point, she got to sit on the gelding's back and hang out while my friend and I talked about the filly (and other horse-related stuff, because you know, horse people can't stop talking about horses!). 

I had no expectation that the filly would feel comfortable with me right away.  When Nimo was a yearling, he latched on to every human in the vicinity and tried to woo them, but I don't think that is normal yearling behavior.  Instead, what I was hoping to observe was how she acted with people she did know in a place that she felt comfortable.  And what I saw was good.  She was happy to stand near my friend and her husband and be led around with a halter and lead rope.  And after a few minutes of observing me, she asked if I would please scratch her butt.  My last two horses have had this same habit, so I recognized the behavior and obliged.  After I scratched her butt for a few minutes, I started moving to different areas of her body, looking for itchy spots (most horses are constantly itchy during Virginia summers because of the bugs and heat and humidity).  I was able to touch her all over, including her face and she seemed happy to stand next to me without a halter on.  I was also able to move her over with light pressure.

Gemma and the filly got along really well!

The other thing that I liked was that she was curious.  While Gemma was sitting on the gelding, the filly approached and started to sniff Gemma's legs and interact with her without being obnoxious.

Oh, and did I mention that my friend gave all the horses their rabies shots and dewormed them while we stood there?  None of the horses (including the filly) had any halters on while she did it.  They just hung out and stood quietly.

Overall, I was really impressed with the filly.  She didn't demonstrate any nipping or pushy behavior which is really common for horses her age.  She moved away from pressure with minimal effort.  She was curious.  She was quiet.  She interacted well with my friend and with me and my daughter.  She had a few basic skills, including being caught, leading, having her feet handled, and loading in a trailer.  And she was friendly without being too assertive about it.

I mean, how could I resist?

When I bought Nimo, I went through an extensive process that impresses even me when I think back on it.  I fully educated myself about the Friesian breed.  I did a nationwide search of breeders.  I sent emails with questions and I looked at sales videos.  I even looked at Friesian crosses and occasionally something completely different just to make sure a Friesian was what I really wanted.  I visited horses in person.  I brought knowledgeable friends with me to give me feedback.  And when I finally picked the horse I wanted, I slept on it for a few days before I made the offer.  Then I got a pre-purchase exam and signed a multi-page purchase agreement.  It was a textbook approach to the way a person should buy a horse.

Because back then I was still my perfectionist self.  Since then, life has happened in many ways. The biggest thing, of course, is that I had a baby.  If you are a parent, you'll know that being a perfectionist and having a child are usually not compatible.  I've had to adapt.  Also, I'm usually too tired to care about perfection these days:) 

And over the years with Nimo, particularly when we entered the world of endurance riding, I had to put myself out of my comfort zone so many times.  I survived every time (although there were a couple of times that it was close!), and that has given me a lot of confidence.  (Potentially misplaced confidence because it is entirely possible that I am only still alive due to a guardian angel who has been working over time more than once to keep me in the land of the living.)  

My confidence isn't based on feeling like an expert with horses, though.  Quite the opposite.  I feel like there is so much to learn about horses that I will never learn it all no matter how long I live.  My confidence is more along the lines of knowing that I can recognize if something isn't working and knowing that things will be OK even if I make a mistake.  If Nimo taught me nothing else, it is that horses are remarkably forgiving of their humans.  There are very few mistakes the average person can make with a horse that can't be fixed - although it might take some time to fix them!  

The old me was very concerned about making mistakes.  I didn't want to make them, and if I did, I would spend a lot of time beating myself up about it.  Now, I've made so many mistakes, I couldn't remember even a quarter of them if I tried.  And yet, somehow the world kept on spinning and my life kept on going and my horse kept on interacting with me.  Plus I learned that many things that I would have classified as mistakes before are really just part of the learning process.  I mean, when you think about it, the idea that humans can communicate with horses at all is pretty amazing.  We are predators at the top of the food chain and they are prey.  Even more amazing is that the desire to communicate is often a two-way street.  Horses want to talk to us too!

And so, because of my beautiful Nimo, I was able to trust myself to recognize a good horse when I saw her.  That is how for a dollar and a handshake, a little filly named Donut became mine.