Bailey (aka "Pain-In-The-Ass Old Man")

Oh Bailey, good 'ole Bailey. My old man.

Fluffy winter coat

This horse, this one here^, is one lucky son-of-a-bitch. I didn't fall in love with Bailey the way I fell in love with Blake, though I met him the same way. He came to Maybury in the spring of 2005. Most of the horses we got came from the local auction. Some, like Bailey, came from private sellers, and some were given to my boss from friends or family or donated to the stable. Every year at the beginning of each season, my boss would pick up a few horses that he thought might prove to be good trail horses, and we'd try them out. Us trail guides would ride the new horses for a few weeks or months to see if they had the potential to behave well enough to pack around beginners. It would often take a whole year of trail guides riding them before they were ready to go to work, but usually after a few weeks you could tell if one was going to work out or not.The ones that didn't work out went back to the auction to find themselves a new career.

This cycle happened a couple times each spring, and we'd get a few good new horses out of it each year. I didn't know a lot about auctions back then- I knew the horses could pretty much be picked up by anyone, kind or cruel (in a Black Beauty sort of way). If I'd known then what I know about auctions now... well maybe I'd have been more worried. But I was young and naive.

When Bailey came in the spring of 2005, he instantly captured everyone's attention, being palomino (yeah yeah, we were young and he was a "cool" color). We soon figured out that he was a PAIN-IN-THE-ASS. Bailey was hot. Bailey was hard-mouthed. Bailey threw his head in the air for no apparent reason. Getting on Bailey, and he jigged around the corral and then continuously "asked" to bolt while you were out on trail (he wouldn't actually bolt or try to, but he was obviously waiting for the cue to take off like a rocket). Us guides switched off riding him throughout the summer. Some of the guides, while riding him, handled him...well, differently. One girl tried to correct his head throwing by forcing his head against his chest rollkur-style for the better part of an hour's ride. I cried when I saw that his mouth was visibly bruised. I had already taken a liking to the spunky 19-year-old yellow horse. [Side note: I didn't like the way she rode him and I thought it was horrible, but looking back, we were all young, and we were all learning. We all made mistakes (lord knows I made a ton), and she probably knows better now.]

After that, only a few people rode Bailey- primarily me and one other girl. She and I liked him more than anyone else did. He was a pain, but we liked his firey attitude. He was firey, but he wasn't scary in the way some hot horses are- I wasn't nervous riding him (though, to be honest, I was 17 and wasn't scared of anything). He wouldn't buck or rear or get angry. He just really liked to be constantly moving, and usually at a fast pace. His walk was fast. His trot was fast. His "stand" was non-existent. He was not an ideal riding stable horse, but for some reason, my boss stuck it out with him, to see if he'd get better throughout the season.

In early October, when I was told Blake would be mine at the end of the month, my boss wanted to get every ride out of Blake that he could- so he assigned Bailey as my guide horse nearly every day. I remember telling another good friend of mine, that I really liked Bailey. And that if Blake didn't exist, I'd probably take Bailey instead. She asked me if I'd ever consider having two horses, and I replied something along the lines of "I wish." I was happy to just be getting one! No need to get greedy (or broke).

And so Blake was officially mine at the end of October. My horse, all mine, I could see him and ride him and hug him whenever I wanted, and I didn't have to ask permission. I rode him all the time, even after the working season ended in November. My life was complete! And then in early December I got a phone call from my boss. He told me that he was just about to pack up a couple of horses that didn't work out this season and take them to the auction the next day, and Bailey was one of them. He wasn't going to call me, but apparently my friend told him to ask me if I wanted Bailey first (that horse can thank his lucky stars that I have a friend like her). He was almost as shocked as I was, something along the lines of "Didn't you just buy a horse? Like a month and a half ago?" And I was like, "Yeah... " And so he asked, "well, do you want him or not?" I asked him if I could have a week to think about it. I needed to do some budgeting.

After a lot of thought and calculating, I figured I could do it. And I liked Bailey, I didn't want that crazy old man to go to auction. He deserved better than that. My parents were totally against it. I was still 17 and in high school, living at my parents' house. I bought Blake all on my own, and planned on paying his board and vet bills all on my own (I kept that promise). I grew up in middle-class suburbia, but my parents weren't the type to just throw money at me for horses. Especially when they saw them as Large Dangerous Beasts.

I never did get my parents' approval to buy Bailey, but it was my hard-earned money, and if my brother was going to use his to buy a bunch of old jeeps to work on, well, they weren't going to keep me from my favorite hobby/dream/life-calling. In order to get them to stop badgering me about the bad decisions I was about to make, I had to convince them that if I ever got into a tight spot financially, Bailey would be the first to go, and who knows? Maybe I wouldn't even own him that long. I just wanted to try it. They took this as a good argument, and let me be. Thank you, parents.

So on December 9th, I called my boss back and said, "Don't take him to the auction, I'll buy him." I felt like a crazy person. I walked up to his door the next day, and on December 10th, 2005, a little over a month after I had bought Blake, I had a second horse. And our names all started with Bs (aren't we special?).

The boys. Eatin' grass.

Long story short, I did manage to pay for both horses. Bailey came with me to college, and then on to graduate school, helped me cope with Blake's death, and then was subjected to a second cross-country trip when we moved to my current location (poor old man). Bailey will be 27(?) this December. I don't know his actual birthday or any of his history. The horses who came to our stable rarely had papers. In 2006 during his annual checkup, my vet told me he thought he was "somewhere between 18 and 22." I picked 20 and have been counting from there, with his birthday on the day I bought him.

Recent picture of my old man, taken a few months ago. Nom nom, grass.

  
Bailey and I don't ride anymore. We did up until about 5 months ago, though. The two cross-country trips were hard on his joints (Bailey has high ringbone in both front legs, which is aggravated by trailering). He managed to become sound for short, slow rides several months after the first move, but lately he's showing his age a lot. We take dog-walks down the road now for exercise, and even in-hand he tries to pull ahead. He's pasture-sound as well, I've seen him fight and run around with the other horses out there. He's still a hot, crazy, old man, and he's got a home until he dies.

Blake's Story

They say you get one horse per lifetime, and I just sincerely hope that that isn't true. Because if it is true, then that means I've lost that one, and what's the point in having other horses? Deep down, I don't want to believe that saying, and I think that you can have that same connection (but maybe in a different way) with multiple horses. You have to be able to, otherwise, why even try?

If there is only one horse per lifetime, Blake was mine. Strong, beautiful, 15'2 1100 lb bay quarter horse, HYPP N/H (you can guess how this story ends). He was mine, and I was his. He was my whole world.

Blake and I met the summer of 2003, when we were both newbies to our jobs at the local riding stable in the town where I grew up. I was 15 years old, and he was 5. I, being a suburbia-raised horse-crazy kid with little horse exposure besides horse camp and a few lessons here and there, was enthralled to get the job. Working there had been a dream of mine since forever. I was much younger than the other girls, but I caught on fast. I was willing to do all the undesirable job tasks, from poop-scooping the whole corral to giving 10 pony rides in a row. And when no one wanted to ride the gangly, awkward bay horse who occasionally kick at other horses and sometimes people out of frustration, that job fell to me. Really, no one liked him. We put the ugliest pad and ugliest halter on him (both urine-yellow colored), to save the prettier ones for the horses that were more well-liked.

I specifically recall a memory in which I saw Blake standing tied at one end of the corral, and my boss telling me to take the out the next ride, and when I asked which horse to take, I thought to myself, "please not Blake, please not Blake." And my boss said, "take Blake." And so I did. And after that I was assigned to ride him the next day, and the next day, and so on. And he grew on me. And I rode him when I came in on my days off (I think I spent most of my days off actually at work). And I exercised him through the winter. And I bought him a nice green saddle blanket and matching halter, to spice up his look a little. And he got nicer; he got more pleasant to be around. It's crazy what a little love can do to a horse. He also grew into himself a little more, though that had more to do with actual growing.

Blake in 2003 with his spiffy matching blanket and halter

When I was sixteen at the end of my second year, I tried to buy Blake from my boss. By that time Blake had grown more and become a reliable trail horse, well-behaved enough to pack around kids and strong enough to carry large adults. He was too valuable to my boss, and I was out of luck. At the end of my 3rd year, when I was 17 and a senior in high school, I tried again, and this time I had saved up money specifically to make my boss a really good offer. On October 29th, 2005, I offered my boss $2,500 to take the big bay off his hands. He accepted, and at the end of the working season, Blake was mine.

After that, Blake no longer had to tolerate the riding stable customers on his back. He was a spoiled, privately owned horse.

When I left for college in the fall of 2006, I kept Blake (and Bailey, my other horse, who I bought shortly after Blake...whole other story, sort of a spur-of-the-moment buy to keep him from the auction) back home so I could come back and use him when I worked on the weekends. My first week of college, I got a phone call- something was wrong with my horse. He was having weird muscle twitches, breathing funny, and sweating. I said call the vet. The vet came, checked him out, and took some blood/hair samples to run some tests. Blake was okay that day, but I got test results back that my horse was HYPP positive, and I learned a thing or two about emergency vet bills.

I tried to learn as much as possible about HYPP- my vet gave me a pamphlet on it, and what to do if he had another attack. But Blake was fine. At the end of that November, I took Blake to college with me, and we together we spent 4 amazing years together. I'd drive up, he'd canter up to the gate and whinny at me, and we'd either go for a ride, hang out in the grassy roundpen and eat grass (him, not me), or we'd play tag in the indoor arena. I called him my soul mate, and every boy I dated knew that he'd had my heart first. And he didn't have another attack.

Keeping warm in the winter of 2007

Enjoying the grassy roundpen in the summer of 2010

When I graduated college in 2010, I packed up my life (and my horses), and moved across the country for graduate school. Though I had been a horse owner for nearly 5 years by that point, I have to admit that my training had been pretty informal. But I knew about colic, and I tried to keep their diet the same. I didn't know if anything would provoke Blake's HYPP, but I wasn't too worried. 5 years, no episodes. I figured if something needed to be changed, he'd maybe have a small attack like last time, and I'd change things (diet, turnout, whatever) from there. And for a while, my horse was fine.

On Saturday, November 6th, 2010, I woke up to a call from my barn owner. Blake was dead.

I can't even describe how the drive to the stable went. I don't want to, I don't want to remember. There was my soul mate, huge, strong, powerful, and lifeless. I bawled into his neck and held onto my other horse, telling him (telling myself) it would be okay. I don't want to think about how he died. I know more about HYPP now, and I know how horrible it can be. I'll never stop thinking about the "what ifs": what if his diet caused it, what if he'd had more turnout, what if he'd been boarded somewhere else. What if it was my fault.

Two weeks later, I moved Bailey to a new barn so he could be closer to me. I loved Bailey (I still have him and I still love him), but he's not "that one horse." He's a cute, spunky, crotchety old man and I won't ever sell him, but the connection isn't there.

In January of 2011 I decided I needed a rideable horse (Bailey's pushing 27, and for the past few years has been sound on-and-off). I adopted a 10-year-old thoroughbred from a nearby horse rescue, and she's wonderful. She's taught me so much: mostly, that she's a project, and that I have a LOT to learn. Piper perks up when she sees me, enjoys the work we do, and is constantly teaching me things. I found her when I needed her most, and she got me back in the saddle after a painful two-month dry spell. We have a lot of fun, and we're learning together. I've had Piper for a year and a half now; she's not Blake, and though I sort of bought her to replace him, she never will. But maybe Blake doesn't have to be my only "one horse." Maybe if I'm lucky, I'll be allowed to have a second soul mate.

New

Okay, so I'm going to try blogging. I'm a scientist, and hardly a writer; what I do write has always been considered "too passive," by any non-scientist. So is the fate of science writing. I hope this will be readable.

In all honesty I wish now that I had started this blog a year and a half ago, when I first bought Piper, and then maybe used it to update and keep track of her progress, but maybe I'll still do that. Or maybe I wish I'd started blogging when Blake died, because lord knows I wouldn't have before that.

To introduce myself a bit, I'm a 24-year-old graduate student living in Oklahoma. I am and always have been horse-crazy, and I'm constantly trying to learn more and better myself (in all areas of my life, but primarily with horses). Here I'd mention my other hobbies, but I don't have any. I follow several big horse blogs already, which has prompted me to start my own. I can only hope anyone will want to read this crap that I'll (maybe) remember to spew every once in a while when I feel like it.

I currently have two horses, though in my life I've owned three total. My horses now include one old-as-shit (he's 26? maybe? that's the vet's approximate) ranch broke palomino quarter horse named Bailey, who is now about 90% retired and has decided that manners don't matter anymore (yes, my fault, I know, I'm slightly embarrassed). But he's a useless horse who has a forever home with me. My other horse is Piper, my project. 12-year-old thoroughbred mare with a love of speed but also tries very hard to please mom. She's a joy, and came into my life when I needed her most. It's been a steep learning curve (on my end) to work with her, and I'm just lucky she'll cooperate.