In the spring of 2014 my heart hurt. My beloved and talented
show hunter Blind Faith aka Lucy Van Pelt, was sixteen years old and had spent
a year recovering from surgery to repair a torn suspensory. Prior to her injury
she had never been better.
But the surgery and time off didn’t work. Lucy was
officially retired and I was distraught.
In that state, I made an entirely emotional and ridiculous
financial decision to breed her. Luckily Lucy was exceedingly talented, and I found out later, carried good blood lines.
Phew, she saved my butt
once again.
My trainer and I started looking at potential baby daddies. Since artificial insemination is the gold
standard for sport horses, and thanks to innovations in shipping frozen semen,
there is literally a world of stallions to choose from. That meant stallions
from Germany, Canada and Ireland were all on the table.
The sheer number of choices was mind boggling; the
process was like Tinder or Match.com for equines. The only limits are your goals and your wallet.
I was looking for an amateur hunter. That meant the stallion needed a
reputation for babies that were amateur friendly and being able to take a joke.
I'm not an "amateur" amateur. I'm a real amateur. I needed a regular comedian.
Lucy had a jump for
days, but her movement isn’t the best. So
we also wanted a stallion with a great way of going to improve upon that. We picked
Westporte, a Canadian Warmblood who had
all the attributes on my long checklist.
I wired a bunch of money to Canada and when
Lucy’s obstetrician/vet decided she was at peak fertility, Lucy went to the
clinic. Without even a Wham! Bam! or Thank you, m’am, she was knocked up.
At 30 days, Lucy was confirmed pregnant. It was determined that she was carrying twins which is not good. So one was terminated (hopefully the untalented and lame one) and Lucy came home to hang her buddies for the next ten and a half months.
I spent the time watching Lucy’s girth and moaning increase. Other than the near-constant sighing, she was happy
as a clam.
I however, worried. Was she
spending too much time out in the sun? It was 110 degrees, was the baby getting
fried? Was she eating too much? Too little?
I was lucky enough to have secured a spot for Lucy and the baby at Three Wishes Farm, Anneliese Kannow's place. Anneliese is not only a smart
lady, who knows seemingly everything about breeding sport horse, she is a very
calming influence.
Anneliese assured me everything was going to be fine, and
because I was new at this and ignorant, I believed her.
Turns out, she was right.
The last day of February 2015, Lucy gave birth. I got to the clinic about 20 minutes after Faith
did.
After an hour of contemplating her situation, Faith figured out how to use her legs
and started to nurse. I thought she was perfect.
Now it's just a matter of time. You know, the waiting
is the hardest part.
That said, baby horses are just about the most fun, ever. They
are ridiculous, beautiful and constantly curious all at once. Did
I mention how cute they are? Even the ugly ones are adorable.
Faith and Lucy shared their pasture with another mare and
her colt. The foals became inseparable. They would charge around the field,
running up and down the hills and jumping over logs and sticks and invisible
things. It was awesome.
Eventually the babies spent more time together than with
their moms, which made weaning a non-event. Neither Faith nor Lucy found it
nearly as traumatic as I did, which just figured.
I went out to visit at least once a week. I’d holler for
Faith and I’d squint at her as she ran toward my handful of peppermints.
She inherited her daddy’s way of going. Yay!
We put the babies in a jump chute over tiny crossrails a couple of times. Faith
didn’t have the greatest form, but she had ability. Like her momma, the
height of the jumps was not going to be a problem.
This weekend was the West Coast segment of the Young Horse Show
series. It’s a relatively new program in
the United States, but is an institution in Europe. It’s a way breeders can get
their young horses judged on confirmation and jumping.
When Anneliese suggested I send Faith with her babies to the
show, I was in. It would be an invaluable experience for both of us.
It would be Faith's first
time in a trailer without her mom and she’d get bathed, clipped, have her mane
pulled and braided and spend her first night in a stall. All good things for her future life as a show horse.
But mostly, a photographer was going to be there. It’s all
about the pictures.
Faith was a superstar. She loaded and shipped well, when it
came time to get her mane pulled and her whiskers trimmed, she was patient.
Ish. She even put up with a bath and wore a sheet to keep clean.
When I arrived, I barely recognized the filly in the stall. Faith was all
grown up. In two years she had gone from a zygote to becoming a horse shockingly
reminiscent of her mother.
I had to walk away
from her for a moment to take it all in.
As for the show; it was a blast. I sniffled a little when the handlers took her into the ring. She was following along like a real horse.
Once in the ring, Faith moved well and her
ability to jump was obvious, even if her style needed some polish. The judges
comment were dead on, “Scopey,” they wrote. “But needs to find her technique.”
I can live with that.
Hell, I was so excited that the first thing I did when I got
home was run to the backyard to brag about Faith to Lucy.
Lucy was far more
interested in her peppermints, than my news.
