Why is it the camera is never there when you want it? Maybe because today I left it at home, thinking I wouldn't be taking any pictures. Sometimes I get what I deserve for thinking.
I was meeting a friend this morning at the Daugherty Hill Wildlife Area to ride. I love this area for riding because it has a lot of hill work, it's quiet & peaceful, & there's a great creek about 1/2 way out & back to cool the horses. As is usual for me, I arrived about 1/2 an hour earlier than our scheduled meet up time. Anyone who knows me knows that I take my time getting Launi ready to ride. His mane MUST be braided just right. LOL Actually, I just like the peaceful time spent with my horse.
Not long after I arrived this morning a truck pulled into the parking area, asking if I could round up some cattle. Uh, I don't think so, I ride an ay-rab who's never worked cows. Maybe someday, but not as of yet. We talked for a few minutes & we hear a snuffling, snorting noise coming around the bushes & into the parking lot. It's a pot belly PIG! I untie Launi as fast as possible because I just know he's going to come unglued. He's never seen a pig & every horse I've owned who met up with pigs went crazy. They just don't smell right. Well, this little pig just waddles over to us & Launi's captivated. He sniffs her & she roots around his feet. She even noses his hind leg & he doesn't mind. Next they eat the same patch of grass. It seems Launi wants his very own Miss Piggy.
She was a cute pig, obviously someones pet. She liked being scratched & hung out around the trailer. My friend arrived & wasn't thrilled to see Miss Piggy. She didn't unload her horse because she KNEW he'd freak out. She petted the little pig & instantly regretted it. Miss Piggy followed her to her trailer, trying to nuzzle her leg. Pig noses are strong & pushy. My poor friend gets on the trailer step to get away. I'm laughing with glee & regretting the decision to not bring my camera. Miss Piggy puts her front feet on the step & my friend LEAPS up onto the trailer fender. Shoo shoo, go away.... I'm cracking up, sorry my friend. It was such a comical scene. All the time Launi was just watching HIS little pig. Finally Miss Piggy waddled on down the road.
We had a nice ride & enjoyed the day. Back at the trailers Launi & Sonny noticed donkeys across the road. Three little mini donks. Hmmmm...first a pig & now 3 donkeys. I untied Launi & he slowly made his way out of the parking lot, across the road & to the fence. It was so cute to see him sniffing noses with 3 little donks. They might have come up to his knees. I really think if I'd let him, Launi would have brought all his little friends home. I'm sure in a former life he must have told his mom "Look what followed me home. Can I keep them?"
Wednesday, June 26, 2013
Sunday, April 14, 2013
Where The Blacktop Began
It was the Christmas holiday, 1978, & I had just landed at the Atlanta GA airport with a friend. We were on our way to N Carolina, where she & her husband lived. Both were in the Marine Corp & stationed at Camp Lejune. After running across the airport to catch our "prop job" flight, we made our way, via a stop in S Carolina, to N Carolina. The weather was gorgeous & the scenery matched. When her husband picked us up & asked what we wanted to do first, we both said "go to the stable!"
As we walked around the very nicely kept stable, a loose white horse went running down the dirt road. The horse belonged to a teacher who owned the property & barn next door. She was nowhere in sight. My friend & I took off running after the horse, who by the way, was actually named Whitey.
We had run for about 2 miles (I was much younger in 1978 & still able to run, unlike today) when we heard screeching tires & a "thud". About 200 yards & a bend in the road later we came to Highway 258, & there stood a dazed, bleeding Whitey. He'd been hit by a small gas/tankerHmmmm, is any tanker truck really small? The driver was out pacing in the road, not believing what had just happened, & surely in some state of shock. Whitey never moved, head hanging, his entire body trembling. Tire marks were clearly visible across his hip, where the truck had actually run OVER him. It was hard to see what damage there was because his hindend was covered in blood. Somehow my friend had had the foresight to grab a halter before we ran, so we caught Whitey & moved him just off the roadway. A state trooper arrived & called for a vet.
Whitey was a lucky horse. He healed with little more than scars as mementos of his ill fated romp to where the blacktop began.
As we walked around the very nicely kept stable, a loose white horse went running down the dirt road. The horse belonged to a teacher who owned the property & barn next door. She was nowhere in sight. My friend & I took off running after the horse, who by the way, was actually named Whitey.
We had run for about 2 miles (I was much younger in 1978 & still able to run, unlike today) when we heard screeching tires & a "thud". About 200 yards & a bend in the road later we came to Highway 258, & there stood a dazed, bleeding Whitey. He'd been hit by a small gas/tankerHmmmm, is any tanker truck really small? The driver was out pacing in the road, not believing what had just happened, & surely in some state of shock. Whitey never moved, head hanging, his entire body trembling. Tire marks were clearly visible across his hip, where the truck had actually run OVER him. It was hard to see what damage there was because his hindend was covered in blood. Somehow my friend had had the foresight to grab a halter before we ran, so we caught Whitey & moved him just off the roadway. A state trooper arrived & called for a vet.
truck.
It seemed like forever before the vet arrived. Cleaning Whitey as best he could, he began his assessment of injuries. I don't know how many stitches it took to put Whitey back together that day. We stood beside the road for a very long time. Fortunately there didn't appear to be any internal injuries or broken bones. The vet gave us pain meds & antibiotics, wished us luck, & off he went. There my friend & I stood, along the highway, with a very sedated & bloody Whitey.
With no other options available, we started walking Whitey back to his home. My friend lead him while I walked behind to keep encouraging him to move. He staggered along, needing to often stop & rest. It was a slow, tedious journey & the sun was setting as we arrived at the stable. His owner had been located & she was there waiting for us. We helped her get Whitey into her barn & bedded down. We stayed for quite some time, wanting to be sure he was alright before leaving him for the night.
Whitey was a lucky horse. He healed with little more than scars as mementos of his ill fated romp to where the blacktop began. Saturday, April 13, 2013
Such A Tragedy
Life is so precious & unpredictable, & we have no way of knowing what or how events in life are going to impact us. I got an almost completely incoherent phone call tonight from a neighbor up the road. Something about a horse hit on the road & a foal being born, with an almost hysterical plea to get there fast. I threw on jeans & 1/2 dressed I hurried up the road, on the bumper of the first CHP responder. What a horrific scene, one that will long be burned into my mind. Blood everywhere with a disemboweled mare laying in the road. The collision with a truck had split a very pregnant mare, spilling her filly onto the road. My neighbors had grabbed the filly & got her to the side of the road, bundled in blankets. Half a dozen people stood around, not knowing what to do, wondering what they could feed the filly. A number of children were sitting on the side of the road, playing in the dirt, one asking questions about what he was seeing. Flashing lights arriving, 1/2 dozen vehicles (including mine) blocking the road, the sound of a wench & chain. It was a very surreal scene, somewhat like a slow motion horror movie. A pretty chestnut filly with a star & some little white socks. Not quite ready to be born, but close enough that her knees felt good , her ears weren't floppy, & she had a suckle reflex. She struggled to get up so I sat with her, holding her sternal & keeping her warm. Wishing there was more I could do, but at least she wasn't alone. Wondering if I could take her home & try. Wanting to cry because she was so fragile & deserved so much more. Gradually, as I sat there in the night holding her, feeling the cold blood soak through my jeans, her respiration & pulse slowed. By the time a vet tech, called by AC, got there the poor little filly was no longer struggling & had lost her suckle reflex. It was so very heartbreaking to watch her fade as AC & the tech whisked her away. I can only hope they pull the filly through, but wonder if she even made it to the vet hospital alive. Such a tragedy that will long haunt my thoughts.
Tuesday, April 9, 2013
Finding Bigfoot
The year was 1991, the location was just outside Big Bend CA, the occasion was an endurance ride.
My friend Kate & I had planned to ride 50 miles together, with the intention of elevating to the 75 mile ride if our horses looked good at the end of the 50. It was apparent that Kate's horse Koi was getting tired by the time we hit 45 or so miles. We slowed down & walked most of the next 5 miles. There was no question that she wouldn't be elevating to the 75 miler that day. When we arrived at the 50 finish/vet check, the vet confirmed that Koi was too tired to continue. Wraff on the other hand was almost literally rearing to go. It was already 5pm so I wasn't sure I wanted to elevate. We'd ridden a little slower than planned, so I'd be leaving on the last 25 mile loop later than I'd anticipated. After the hour hold it'd be 6pm before I'd hit the trail again. What the hell, off Wraff & I went.
Just before dusk I found myself riding along a ridge line, beneath power lines, with manzanita thick along the trail. We were just trotting down the trail, having fun, when I heard crashing off to my right. I could see the top of something dark brown parallelling us. Wraff pricked his ears & sped up a bit, but otherwise didn't seem to be bothered. I, on the other hand, was freaking out that a bear was running parallel to us, just 10' or so away. With a lump in my throat & adrenaline rushing, right then I decided that as soon as I got to the road crossing I was going to ride down the road & back to basecamp. I was DONE riding & didn't want to be out after dark. About a mile later the trail turned & there was a little family of deer peacefully grazing. Relief spread over me because if the deer weren't afraid that meant I was no longer being followed, errr chased. A pitstop was in order. A quick stop & I was back in the saddle, trotting down the trail into the night.
Silly me, I'd told ride management I didn't need glow bars for the last couple of miles because I knew the trail & we'd ridden it earlier in the day. Silly me! I knew where we were but couldn't find our way through the narrow trail & brush. I even got off & tried to lead Wraff, who was totally disgusted with me by now. It was so dark I had to reach my hand out & proceed by feel. I began to have visions of spending the night on the trail & waiting until daylight to find my way into camp. I couldn't believe I couldn't find the trail. Finally I rode back up the hill to the last glow bar, plucked it off the bush (I was the only rider still on the trail), & back down the hill I went. Gee, is was easy to find the trail with a little light. Thirty minutes later we arrived at the finish line.
As I vetted Wraff in, I told of our bear scare & how I almost ended my ride out of fear. A couple people looked at me funny & said there was no way it was a bear following along the trail. Bears aren't that big. I was puzzled. Then the vet asked me how tall was the manzanita. Well, it was just about as tall as me. Yes, just about as tall as me, & I was ON Wraff's back. If Wraff was 15 hands (or 5') & I was on him, that would have made that bear about 8'-9' tall. Holy moly! That was no bear. As the look on my face changed, the vet patted me on the back & told me I was lucky as I'd seen what very few people ever see. Bigfoot!
Until now I've told very few people this story. Why? Because part of me still refuses to accept the truth of what was running along side Wraff & I that night. I try to find some other logical explanation. But the realization that I could just see the top of something dark brown at a heigth of about 8'-9'' travelling at our speed...I have to accept that I what I saw was a bigfoot. That thought still raises the hair on the back of my neck. That's a night I'll never forget. The night I was more afraid than Wraff. The night I had a close encounter with Bigfoot.
My friend Kate & I had planned to ride 50 miles together, with the intention of elevating to the 75 mile ride if our horses looked good at the end of the 50. It was apparent that Kate's horse Koi was getting tired by the time we hit 45 or so miles. We slowed down & walked most of the next 5 miles. There was no question that she wouldn't be elevating to the 75 miler that day. When we arrived at the 50 finish/vet check, the vet confirmed that Koi was too tired to continue. Wraff on the other hand was almost literally rearing to go. It was already 5pm so I wasn't sure I wanted to elevate. We'd ridden a little slower than planned, so I'd be leaving on the last 25 mile loop later than I'd anticipated. After the hour hold it'd be 6pm before I'd hit the trail again. What the hell, off Wraff & I went.
Just before dusk I found myself riding along a ridge line, beneath power lines, with manzanita thick along the trail. We were just trotting down the trail, having fun, when I heard crashing off to my right. I could see the top of something dark brown parallelling us. Wraff pricked his ears & sped up a bit, but otherwise didn't seem to be bothered. I, on the other hand, was freaking out that a bear was running parallel to us, just 10' or so away. With a lump in my throat & adrenaline rushing, right then I decided that as soon as I got to the road crossing I was going to ride down the road & back to basecamp. I was DONE riding & didn't want to be out after dark. About a mile later the trail turned & there was a little family of deer peacefully grazing. Relief spread over me because if the deer weren't afraid that meant I was no longer being followed, errr chased. A pitstop was in order. A quick stop & I was back in the saddle, trotting down the trail into the night.
Silly me, I'd told ride management I didn't need glow bars for the last couple of miles because I knew the trail & we'd ridden it earlier in the day. Silly me! I knew where we were but couldn't find our way through the narrow trail & brush. I even got off & tried to lead Wraff, who was totally disgusted with me by now. It was so dark I had to reach my hand out & proceed by feel. I began to have visions of spending the night on the trail & waiting until daylight to find my way into camp. I couldn't believe I couldn't find the trail. Finally I rode back up the hill to the last glow bar, plucked it off the bush (I was the only rider still on the trail), & back down the hill I went. Gee, is was easy to find the trail with a little light. Thirty minutes later we arrived at the finish line.
As I vetted Wraff in, I told of our bear scare & how I almost ended my ride out of fear. A couple people looked at me funny & said there was no way it was a bear following along the trail. Bears aren't that big. I was puzzled. Then the vet asked me how tall was the manzanita. Well, it was just about as tall as me. Yes, just about as tall as me, & I was ON Wraff's back. If Wraff was 15 hands (or 5') & I was on him, that would have made that bear about 8'-9' tall. Holy moly! That was no bear. As the look on my face changed, the vet patted me on the back & told me I was lucky as I'd seen what very few people ever see. Bigfoot!
Until now I've told very few people this story. Why? Because part of me still refuses to accept the truth of what was running along side Wraff & I that night. I try to find some other logical explanation. But the realization that I could just see the top of something dark brown at a heigth of about 8'-9'' travelling at our speed...I have to accept that I what I saw was a bigfoot. That thought still raises the hair on the back of my neck. That's a night I'll never forget. The night I was more afraid than Wraff. The night I had a close encounter with Bigfoot.
Wednesday, March 13, 2013
In Her Image, or Wraini's Legacy
You know, I've always wanted to name a horse Legacy. I haven't because the best barn name from that is Gacy (who wants a Legs?). Not really sure I want a horse named Gacy because as someone who reads a lot of true crime, Gacy isn't the greatest name. Remember John Wayne Gacy? Yeah, Legacy really isn't that great a name after all.
But I digress from the real story. DC Reindeer Dippin is the spitting image of her dam, DC Kobayashi Wrain. Dippi's bigger & more substantial, but that's about the only differences. I've always known that Dippi, who by the way is named after a world champion bucking bull (another digression), would be a spitfire & a spunky ride. She's super forward, looking for the next trail & absolutely thinks she can trot before she learns to walk. Yep, that's Wraini all over.
Today I rode Launi & ponied Dippi on my favorite local trail. It was 2 hours of Mr & Ms Toad's Wild Ride. The 2 toadies were bent on challenging each other, seeing who could faster & who was going to be in front. Wait a minute, Launi SHOULD be in front since he was being ridden & Dippi ponied. Dippi wanted to go faster & I had to keep telling her to NOT bite Launi's butt. Oh she'd shake her head is disgust. Quite a few times Launi pinned his ears & even half lunged at Dippi in a mini attack. My hands were literally full & 1/2 in control of a ton of horse flesh. Up Sycamore Hill we went with Dippi trying to stay even on a single track trail. Really she would like to have passed & taken the lead. At the top I dismounted, signed the log book, & started to lead the toadies down the other side. I had a brief thought that the 2 of them could prove to be a bit much for my short legs but I pushed that thought aside. The next thing I knew I was slamming my left knee into the ground. Launi had stepped on the heel of my right shoe when Dippi tried to shove by him, sending me writhing on the ground. I spoke loudly in French but only the toadies heard me. To his credit, Launi did sniff me in remorse. That ended my walk for the day, Launi was just going to have to pack me down the hill.
While I rode today I reflected on Wraini & the awesome gelding who not only raised her, but who gave me the best trail years ever. I had ponied Wraini off Wraff many, many miles over the years. She was always pushing him to go faster & was never satisfied being behind. Wraff was always giving me the ride of my life while I tried to hang on to 1800lbs of horses. Many days I spent riding up the Coffer Dam in Auburn, ponying Wraini on a lunge line so she could blaze out in front of us. So many times today I looked at Dippi & remembered her mother. 3/4 of the way through the ride I found it was actually easier to let Dippi lead the way. She was easier to control with one line than Launi was with both hands on the reins. It was deja vu for me riding along on my 2 best horses, just like I had so many years ago. Today, as it was then, both were fractious & eager to fly, & I was having a time just hanging on. A few times I even caught myself calling Launi & Dippi by their predecesors' names. What a gloriously bittersweet day. While Wraff & Wraini are gone, they will both be remembered every time I'm brave enough to ride Launi & pony Dippi. Every time I'm CRAZY enough to ride Launi & pony Dippi. Thank you Wraini for leaving me the best legacy ever, DC Reindeer Dippin. Happy trails to me.
But I digress from the real story. DC Reindeer Dippin is the spitting image of her dam, DC Kobayashi Wrain. Dippi's bigger & more substantial, but that's about the only differences. I've always known that Dippi, who by the way is named after a world champion bucking bull (another digression), would be a spitfire & a spunky ride. She's super forward, looking for the next trail & absolutely thinks she can trot before she learns to walk. Yep, that's Wraini all over.
Today I rode Launi & ponied Dippi on my favorite local trail. It was 2 hours of Mr & Ms Toad's Wild Ride. The 2 toadies were bent on challenging each other, seeing who could faster & who was going to be in front. Wait a minute, Launi SHOULD be in front since he was being ridden & Dippi ponied. Dippi wanted to go faster & I had to keep telling her to NOT bite Launi's butt. Oh she'd shake her head is disgust. Quite a few times Launi pinned his ears & even half lunged at Dippi in a mini attack. My hands were literally full & 1/2 in control of a ton of horse flesh. Up Sycamore Hill we went with Dippi trying to stay even on a single track trail. Really she would like to have passed & taken the lead. At the top I dismounted, signed the log book, & started to lead the toadies down the other side. I had a brief thought that the 2 of them could prove to be a bit much for my short legs but I pushed that thought aside. The next thing I knew I was slamming my left knee into the ground. Launi had stepped on the heel of my right shoe when Dippi tried to shove by him, sending me writhing on the ground. I spoke loudly in French but only the toadies heard me. To his credit, Launi did sniff me in remorse. That ended my walk for the day, Launi was just going to have to pack me down the hill. 
While I rode today I reflected on Wraini & the awesome gelding who not only raised her, but who gave me the best trail years ever. I had ponied Wraini off Wraff many, many miles over the years. She was always pushing him to go faster & was never satisfied being behind. Wraff was always giving me the ride of my life while I tried to hang on to 1800lbs of horses. Many days I spent riding up the Coffer Dam in Auburn, ponying Wraini on a lunge line so she could blaze out in front of us. So many times today I looked at Dippi & remembered her mother. 3/4 of the way through the ride I found it was actually easier to let Dippi lead the way. She was easier to control with one line than Launi was with both hands on the reins. It was deja vu for me riding along on my 2 best horses, just like I had so many years ago. Today, as it was then, both were fractious & eager to fly, & I was having a time just hanging on. A few times I even caught myself calling Launi & Dippi by their predecesors' names. What a gloriously bittersweet day. While Wraff & Wraini are gone, they will both be remembered every time I'm brave enough to ride Launi & pony Dippi. Every time I'm CRAZY enough to ride Launi & pony Dippi. Thank you Wraini for leaving me the best legacy ever, DC Reindeer Dippin. Happy trails to me. DC Kobayashi Wrain
On a rainy October day in 1991, my two dogs & I went to the local foothill market. The rainy season has always been hard on my psyche & that day was no exception. Pearl & Chinook were getting bones & I was getting a package of cookies. Out of boredom I stopped to read the bulletin board. There was an ad for a 4 months old arab filly & as luck would have it, I drove right by the place to & from the market. I called the number & the girl said to stop by.
Now I wasn't really looking for a horse but what else does a horseaholic do when it's raining? The filly was in a field with her dam, a cute little chestnut mare. Unfortunately the filly was wild & unhandled. She was wearing the halter that had been put on her the day she was born & she hadn't been touched since. Did I mention she was wild? She'd kick & bite if you tried to get anywhere near her. She was a cute little grey with a really nice trot. She turned out to be 3/4 arab/morgan. Her sire was on site & had done a little endurance. While I liked the filly I had no intention of bringing her home.
My gelding, Wraff, was living by himself & he really was a horse who needed a herd. I knew I should get another horse to keep him company but just didn't want to bother shopping for one. A couple of days after I looked at the filly the owner called to say the filly & mare were locked in the barn & to come get the filly. When I hesitated she said she'd even deliver if I'd help load. Geesh, how could I pass that up? Oct 26, 1991 began our journey. I named the filly Wraini because I'd looked at her in the rain. The silent W was because I wanted her to follow in Wraff's hoofprints. While she didn't quite do that, she did leave mighty big hoofprints of her own.
When Wraini was 10 another horse in the pasture kicked her & broke the sesamoids in her left hind. She also suffered a ligament tear. This was on Christmas morning & I have to say the other horse was almost on the dinner table that night. If a friend hadn't picked her up ASAP, I honestly would have taken my very first horse to an auction. To this day I hate that mare & I won't tolerate a kicker. Anyway, the prognosis for Wraini's leg wasn't exactly good. The vet wasn't sure she'd even be pasture sound, let alone ever be ridden again. My incredible little grey mare was tough & healed beyond anyones expectations. 3 1/2 months after the injury she was deemed fit to start walking under saddle. Wraini did a couple of LD rides & even a VERY hard 50 after her injury. Then one day I just decided that I was risking a reinjury to her leg so stopped endurance. She was a great trail horse & super to pony the young horses so she still had a job. In August 2004 she suffered yet another freak injury. This time to her right knee. What looked like a tiny paper cut turned out to be a lightening bolt type wound into the joint. It was horrifying to see joint fluid running down her leg from such a tiny wound. Hard to believe really. After treating her with my local vet for a month we decided she needed to go to UCDavis vet hospital. What a traumatic experience. At first the vets just thought she was to be euthanized because she'd had the bone infection for so long. But you should have seen their surprised faces when she hopped out of the trailer & wasn't lame. After a 2 week stay at the hospital, hours of treatments, & untold amounts of antibiotics, the vets deemed her a very unusual case that had defied the odds. Wraini was sent home infection free & sound.
Now I wasn't really looking for a horse but what else does a horseaholic do when it's raining? The filly was in a field with her dam, a cute little chestnut mare. Unfortunately the filly was wild & unhandled. She was wearing the halter that had been put on her the day she was born & she hadn't been touched since. Did I mention she was wild? She'd kick & bite if you tried to get anywhere near her. She was a cute little grey with a really nice trot. She turned out to be 3/4 arab/morgan. Her sire was on site & had done a little endurance. While I liked the filly I had no intention of bringing her home.
My gelding, Wraff, was living by himself & he really was a horse who needed a herd. I knew I should get another horse to keep him company but just didn't want to bother shopping for one. A couple of days after I looked at the filly the owner called to say the filly & mare were locked in the barn & to come get the filly. When I hesitated she said she'd even deliver if I'd help load. Geesh, how could I pass that up? Oct 26, 1991 began our journey. I named the filly Wraini because I'd looked at her in the rain. The silent W was because I wanted her to follow in Wraff's hoofprints. While she didn't quite do that, she did leave mighty big hoofprints of her own.
What a spitfire! The first night she tried to attack me, teeth first. Her first vaccinations had her on her hind legs striking at a friend & I. What had I gotten myself into? Eventually Wraini calmed down & because a truly wonderful horse. She was spunky & forward, always looking to trot down the trail. She did a few endurance rides & was so much fun to ride. But three freak, and almost devastating injuries sidelined what could have been a fabulous endurance career.
When Wraini was 10 another horse in the pasture kicked her & broke the sesamoids in her left hind. She also suffered a ligament tear. This was on Christmas morning & I have to say the other horse was almost on the dinner table that night. If a friend hadn't picked her up ASAP, I honestly would have taken my very first horse to an auction. To this day I hate that mare & I won't tolerate a kicker. Anyway, the prognosis for Wraini's leg wasn't exactly good. The vet wasn't sure she'd even be pasture sound, let alone ever be ridden again. My incredible little grey mare was tough & healed beyond anyones expectations. 3 1/2 months after the injury she was deemed fit to start walking under saddle. Wraini did a couple of LD rides & even a VERY hard 50 after her injury. Then one day I just decided that I was risking a reinjury to her leg so stopped endurance. She was a great trail horse & super to pony the young horses so she still had a job. In August 2004 she suffered yet another freak injury. This time to her right knee. What looked like a tiny paper cut turned out to be a lightening bolt type wound into the joint. It was horrifying to see joint fluid running down her leg from such a tiny wound. Hard to believe really. After treating her with my local vet for a month we decided she needed to go to UCDavis vet hospital. What a traumatic experience. At first the vets just thought she was to be euthanized because she'd had the bone infection for so long. But you should have seen their surprised faces when she hopped out of the trailer & wasn't lame. After a 2 week stay at the hospital, hours of treatments, & untold amounts of antibiotics, the vets deemed her a very unusual case that had defied the odds. Wraini was sent home infection free & sound.
After her last major injury Wraini became my rainy day New Years Day horse. I only rode her 1 day a year IF it was raining. It always felt good to hop on bareback & have our token New Years ride.
Over the years Wraini gave me four wonderful foals. Three of her foals went to friends & the fourth remains with me. Her daughter DC Reindeer Dippin is almost an identical twin of her mother. She's bigger than Wraini but has that same spunky, forward, don't want to walk, going down the trail attitude. I look forward to many years of fun & trails with Dippi, sharing trails with her that Wraini once went down. Wraini's legacy to me lives on in my pasture, while she will always live on in my heart.
Run free Wraini
DC Kobayashi Wrain
July 2, 1991 - March 12, 2013
Sunday, December 16, 2012
A Horse Named Pogo Stick
A few years ago I was suffering from severe, almost debilitating, headaches. When my doctor couldn't find a cause or offer any further medical advice, I decided I had nothing to lose by going to a chiropractor. What the chiropractor asked me still makes me laugh in a way only a true horseperson can understand. As he almost immediately determined that the source of my headaches was an old injury to my neck, he asked "Have you ever fallen on your head?". My only response was "I have horses". LOL
Over the years I've come off a number of horses, but there's one horse I remember because I didn't even get on her. In the mid & late '70s I spent a lot of time at rodeos & Buck Outs, which were rodeo practice sessions. I did a little barrel racing but my real desire was to get on a bareback bronc! Why you ask? Because I was young, fearless, & an adrenaline junky I suppose. I'd ridden a lot of tough horses, including a lot of TBs & QHs off the race track. The next step in the thrill rides just seemed to be a bronc. If only any of the stock contractors would allow females to ride.
Then one day I got my wish. A stock contractor said why not & a couple of us girls got to get on the broncs. One even got on a bull but I wasn't THAT crazy. The next 3 weekends were so much fun even though I never rode to 8 seconds. I sported some aches & burises, but there was just something exhilarating about the nerves, jitters, & adrenaline rush that went with getting on those horses. I was pretty upset when, on the 4th weekend, there was a new stock contractor & he said NO to the girls riding anything other than barrel racing. The draw had already been done & I would have gotten on a chestnut mare named Pogo Stick.
Totally mad & bummed I hung on the fence as Mike, the cowboy who ended up with MY bronc prepared to ride. Oh did Pogo Stick come out of the chute. That mare went straight up, as high as the chute, hit the ground & pogo sticked right back up in the air. Mike was like a ragdoll for all of 2 seconds, then up he went & head first into the ground. There he lay motionless. A collective gasp went up among the cowboys & cowgirls, then dead silence. Mike was the best rider there & he was unconscious, taken from the arena by stretcher. We later learned that he was stable but in critical condition with a broken neck.
If not for the new stock contractor, it would have been me that day. It would have been me on a horse named Pogo Stick.
Over the years I've come off a number of horses, but there's one horse I remember because I didn't even get on her. In the mid & late '70s I spent a lot of time at rodeos & Buck Outs, which were rodeo practice sessions. I did a little barrel racing but my real desire was to get on a bareback bronc! Why you ask? Because I was young, fearless, & an adrenaline junky I suppose. I'd ridden a lot of tough horses, including a lot of TBs & QHs off the race track. The next step in the thrill rides just seemed to be a bronc. If only any of the stock contractors would allow females to ride.
Then one day I got my wish. A stock contractor said why not & a couple of us girls got to get on the broncs. One even got on a bull but I wasn't THAT crazy. The next 3 weekends were so much fun even though I never rode to 8 seconds. I sported some aches & burises, but there was just something exhilarating about the nerves, jitters, & adrenaline rush that went with getting on those horses. I was pretty upset when, on the 4th weekend, there was a new stock contractor & he said NO to the girls riding anything other than barrel racing. The draw had already been done & I would have gotten on a chestnut mare named Pogo Stick.
Totally mad & bummed I hung on the fence as Mike, the cowboy who ended up with MY bronc prepared to ride. Oh did Pogo Stick come out of the chute. That mare went straight up, as high as the chute, hit the ground & pogo sticked right back up in the air. Mike was like a ragdoll for all of 2 seconds, then up he went & head first into the ground. There he lay motionless. A collective gasp went up among the cowboys & cowgirls, then dead silence. Mike was the best rider there & he was unconscious, taken from the arena by stretcher. We later learned that he was stable but in critical condition with a broken neck.
If not for the new stock contractor, it would have been me that day. It would have been me on a horse named Pogo Stick.
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