The Palomino Pony

Trying to find a minute to reflect on this past year and write it down, before it evaporates forever. In this horse headspace, I measure the time in challenges and triumphs: what we overcame, what we learned, and what we still need to work on. We have truly come so far together these past two years, and my heart swells with pride when I look back on how we have evolved, side by side. This year, we faced a significant health scare, shaved down our time on the pattern, and became a verifiable trail boss team. In between those mountains and valleys of excitement and panic were small moments of peace, frustration, and every emotion person and equine alike are capable of experiencing. We survived this year, even though it felt like a trial by fire, and have come out tempered by it – stronger than ever, and ready for whatever 2023 might bring.

The first scare of the year came in March when Pistol tied up; her muscles went into damaging spasms and I spent an evening sobbing – wondering what I did wrong, and if my mare would ever recover. Considering their size and strength, it is so easy to forget how fragile these animals can be. A week of strict stall rest was followed by a slow rehabilitation; we gently reintroduced exercise a minute at a time, ran a half a dozen different tests, and prayed for answers. Pistol’s physical ailments limited her activity for a little over two months, and she recovered beautifully – making us lucky. However, just because I was back in the saddle and my girl was able to work again, it did not mean we were out of the woods.
I managed our lunging sessions with exacting standards – monitoring each movement, paranoid that she would come out of a lope stiff and unable to move. Each ride, I found myself reluctant to let her run; I was holding her back, terrified that one stride too many and we would be making another frantic phone call to the vet. She seemed as strong and healthy as ever. As if to emphasize her point, my usually dependable partner started consistently bucking. Just like that, we had our second challenge of 2022: the bucking problem.

Between monitoring her for continued symptoms and waiting on test results, my little firecracker decided to buck every. Single. Ride. I researched it, and of course, Google informed me that it was entirely possible she had kissing spine and that her career as a riding horse was over (the equivalent of reading anything on WebMD, and diagnosing yourself with a chronic disease). We worked with our trainer, and the problem persisted. She would have a calm ride here or there, even a week without incident – but then, out of nowhere, she would kick up her heels and drive up my anxiety all over again.

I learned, eventually, that she did have an underlying condition: polysaccharide storage myopathy (PSSM), and while I am now forever consumed by a need to read as much as I can on this genetic disease, it is a manageable problem. This year, I spent more time than ever researching equine nutrition and investigating different supplements to help Pistol meet her unique nutritional needs. Armed with my new knowledge, I was hopeful we would be back racing in no time – but she kept bucking, and bucking, and bucking some more.

It took the better half of the summer, but we finally had a breakthrough after months of blood (mine), sweat, and tears – the precise moment was one that I know I will remember forever. We were cantering a big circle in our outdoor arena, pounding the sand, when she decided to throw not one, not two, but three bucks in for good measure. I bellowed from her back, “PISTOL ANNE!” (yes, I really said that) and gave her a squeeze with my legs, urging her forward – filled with a wild desperation for my old reliable girl to come back to me, and finally, she did. I can’t explain it in words, but something changed between us that day. I would call it a realigning of the universe if that didn’t make it sound much more gravity-defying than it was – but in the moment, even looking back on it, it did. Two of my closest friends were with me, watching that ride, and they felt it, too. We were on the same page again; I didn’t know how, and I didn’t care. I could feel it in my bones, and that kind of certainty simply can’t be explained.

With each ride, I felt more trust in our reconnection. We had to learn to trust each other again, and we worked on that out in the woods and fields, with trail rides and quiet moments away from the arena and the hot summer sun. We went with friends, and we went alone – and each time, we came back better and stronger. Individually, and as a team, our confidence blossomed. I know it might be difficult to understand the relationship if you don’t consider yourself a “horse person” – but it really is different than the relationship with a dog or a cat. Not better, just different. We put our lives into the care of these powerful creatures, and if we trust them, they reward us with their speed, grace, agility, and bravery. After repeatedly challenging me, Pistol spent the rest of the year giving me everything she had. She trusted me to guide us on solo trail rides, and worked harder than she ever has out in the field and in the arena. The obstacles we faced this year solidified our partnership more than I could have ever imagined; and I feel now more than ever like we are truly a team that has the ability to take on whatever life might throw at us.

Between evolving into a fantastic trail mount and working on tidying up our basic horsemanship, we kept up on our pattern work. We took it slow this year, and honestly, I did not expect too much out of her; we had had a rough year, after all. When I signed us up to run at the Erie County Fair, I did it for fun – I didn’t expect us to do particularly well; my only goal was to beat our twenty-eight second run from last year.

It was a hot day, and the stands were crowded – mostly with my own family and friends, which meant everything to me. I had been up on Pistol’s back a good two hours when it started – the bucking. My heart leapt to my throat as I loped her around the warm up pen; one, two, three, four – seven bucks total. She was frustrated, I was anxious; what if she launched me into the dirt, in front of half my family? I felt sick, but I knew we had to run – we had been through too much not to. So with a steadying breath and words of encouragement from our friends, we stepped quietly into the arena – and beat last year’s time by four whole seconds. Is that a good time? No, honestly. But for us, for me, it was everything. What I remember most from that night after galloping home from third is reaching down to hug Pistol around her neck and thank her for the ride, with tears in my eyes.

That about sums up my feelings now, as 2022 comes to a close. My special little mare will not notice the calendar change, but it will end another chapter for me – my most demanding year yet, but at the same time, by far the most rewarding.

So, once more, thank you for the rides, P. I can’t wait to see what adventures we’ll face in this next year. Whatever we do, we’ll do it together.

Happy Thanksgiving! Enjoy this special day with your two (and four) legged family members! 🦃💕✨

Is anybody else feeling like the holidays crept up on them all at once? I feel like just yesterday we were taking down our Halloween decorations, and suddenly it’s Thanksgiving. I didn’t even have time to write up a post for Pistol’s Gotcha Day! I had big plans for this month with writing, and unfortunately, I didn’t get around to posting a whole lot – but that’s okay! I deeply believe in doing the best that you can, and although I wish I would have gotten more accomplished, there’s always tomorrow. Since I last wrote for the page, my fiancé and I closed on a house, and that in itself has been a whirlwind. Between renovation decisions and organizing our finances, I feel like I’ve gotten a little lost in all the stress – so I’m making a point, right now, today, to sit, breathe, and write.

I last posted on November 1st – and glancing it over, I know I was filled with the best intentions. But the opportunity hasn’t passed me by; this page’s simple existence is a testament to the fact that I could (and would) write about my special bond with my mare forever. I’m not going anywhere, neither is she, or the page. And since tomorrow marks the start of the holiday season, it seems more appropriate than ever to focus on what I’m most grateful for – like the two years I’ve spent with Pistol. November 20th marked two full trips around the sun we’ve made together. After being stuck in the house for days following a particularly stubborn snowstorm, we were able to celebrate this past Sunday with a snowy trail ride and a handful of treats. She’s still waiting on her personal pack of Timbits (the birthday cake ones are her favorite), but I know she’ll happily gobble those up whenever I get around to picking them up for her.

I can’t believe it’s been two years. Those two years flew by faster than I ever would have believed – and it reminds me how precious each day truly is. Pistol’s mystery pedigree means I’ll never exactly know how old she is, but the vet’s best guess put her around ten or eleven. I hope she has many, many years left with me but I know that every life is inescapably finite. Now that she’s part of my life, I can’t imagine what it would be like without her. Her little rumbles, her voracious appetite, her impressively long upper lip – that little mare has my whole heart, and she knows it.

Every horse deserves their own person; love and patience can shape even the crankiest nag into a willing partner. I’m by no means any kind of trainer or expert, but the change I’ve seen in Pistol has forced me to believe that a little time and dedication can completely transform these animals. When she came to me, she was pushy, impatient, and stubborn as a mule – with one speed: fast. Now? People from her old life don’t recognize her. They marvel at her soft coat and her gorgeous white mane, her gentle brown eyes, and they can’t believe it’s the same horse. She’s absolutely still a glutton for hay, but she has fantastic ground manners and is quiet enough that my grandmother can hop on for a ride. She’s trained almost perfectly to vocal cues, she free lunges beautifully, and she heeds her rider – she’s become a more willing partner than I would have ever believed.

When I look at her, I swell with pride – I know I did that. I’m not a trainer, and I wasn’t lucky enough to grow up with horses in my backyard, but my dedication was enough for that mare to blossom to her fullest potential.

We still have so much more to learn and do, but when I take stock of our journey together so far – I’m incredibly proud and blessed to call this horse my partner.

Thank you for all the joy you bring to my life, P. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to repay you.

November is officially upon us – and for some of you, that means cranking up the Christmas music and putting on your favorite holiday Hallmark movies. It’s still a little early for me, but don’t let my personal lack of enthusiasm stop you holly jolly junkies from putting up your trees and stringing up lights (I know it won’t!). I’m a big believer in stepping back and letting people love what they love – life is hard enough, so when you find something that makes you happy, you might as well dive right in. Whether that thing is the Christmas season, Marvel movies, crafting, or (my personal delight of choice -- obviously) horses – don’t make any apologies for it.

With the holidays around the corner, 2022 seems to be hurtling toward its end faster than ever. On top of our normal responsibilities, it’s almost that time of year when you start to worry about gifts, family dinners, and cramming all of your holiday traditions in. Maybe I just have Christmas on the brain because Bing Crosby’s been crooning over the radio all day at work – but Thanksgiving is only a short three weeks away, and all that hustle and bustle will be upon us before we know it (whether you celebrate early or not).

I know I haven’t written in quite a while, but I’m by no means abandoning this page – on the contrary, while my hand was healing up, I was doing a lot of thinking. One of the things I want to focus on this month is specifically my bond with Pistol; November being our designated time of thanks, it only seemed appropriate to write about the things I’m most grateful for. Coincidentally, I bought my sweet girl on November 20th, and this month will mark two full years that I’ve called her mine. We have been through so much together, and I can’t wait to revisit the journey we’ve been on so far. 2020 seems so long ago; I know, undoubtedly, that I’m a different person now than I was then – Pistol is most definitely a different horse. We’ve molded and shaped each other, and I like to think it’s all been for the better. Like any relationship, we’ve had our ups and downs – but those mountain peaks seem to keep getting higher, their valleys fewer and far between. I can’t help but feel like this upcoming year is going to be our best one yet.

Short and sweet post today to dive back into blogging – but here’s one thing to remember: it’s officially No Stirrup November, so drop those stirrups!

I haven't posted in quite a while -- but I didn't give up the page, I promise! I had a pretty bad accident last week that ended with a nasty rope burn on my right hand, so it made typing a little difficult. Not to mention, life has gotten a little chaotic lately. But today, the sun is shining and a little warmth has crept back into WNY -- get out there and enjoy it if you have the chance! I'm hoping to be back to riding and typing next week. But in the meantime, Pistol is enjoying some deserved time off -- in between some short groundwork exercises, of course. 🙂

It occurred to me the other day that while most of you are close friends and family, there are a few of you who took on the risk of following a complete stranger; maybe somebody invited you to like the page and you accepted out of a sense of obligation to a friend, or a mild curiosity – it doesn’t matter. We’re happy you’re here! I feel like I’m still shaking off the rust with every post; it’s been so long since I’ve taken the time to write, like actually write. Not a cursory few sentences about a particularly good day to act as a caption for a picture or two stuck up on Instagram. So thank you for bearing with me, and thank you for being here! The support means more than you know, even if you don’t read the posts – but I hope you give them a chance. I don’t feel like I’m a special source of wisdom or even halfway decent training tips, but if anything, I’d like to be that person who reminds you to take a breath each day and be grateful. Grateful for your families, your horses, your dogs – even for the small things, like a cup of warm coffee on a chilly morning. Whatever it is getting you through your day, your week, your year; hold onto it, and if you have the mind to, read on.

My name is Katie, and the palomino pony who lent her image to this page is Pistol. I find my horse to be a heck of a lot more interesting than I am, but to give you a bit of background: I’m twenty-six years old, I was born in Buffalo, NY, and my biggest hobbies in life before horses came into it were reading and writing. I went to Buff State and I have a degree in Television & Film – and ironically enough, I decided not to pursue my silver screen dreams because – get this – it would take up too much of my time. So, I guess I exchanged it for an unpaid hobby that involves a lot of dirt, hay, and scuffed boots. And I don’t have a single regret. I work a pretty typical 9-5 and the rest of my day is dedicated to my life’s passions: my fiancé, my family, my friends, and of course, my trusty steed. Those things rarely exist seamlessly together, because as those of us who spend half our lives at the barn will understand…horses are demanding creatures. That word “demanding” carries a lot of negative weight, but the horses themselves don’t drain you the way a job or a bad partner might. They exhaust you, sure; physically, mentally, emotionally – financially, when things are bad. But, somehow, they fill you up at the very same time they’re draining you. Stick with me here, I promise I’ll do my best to make it make sense.

After a long ride, your body might be sore but you feel good; you know you accomplished something, you know your horse put their heart into the work you asked them to do. You can feel that inch by inch progression that you’re making as a team: whether you do dressage, reining, cross country, it doesn’t matter – your body knows when you put the work in. Even on the hard days, you’re putting in the time. Whether you’re sitting through half a dozen bucks or hand-grazing while your partner is on stall rest after an injury, you have a destination in mind. And if you’re a true horseman, you’re not doing it for a trophy or a check anyway – you’re doing it for your relationship with your horse. You’re picking out their feet and keeping their stall clean – you’re grooming them and making sure their equipment fits right; you’ve got to take care of them first, if you want them to take care of you.

So you leave the barn feeling tired, but accomplished. You’ve got dirt under your fingernails and hay sticking out of your hair, but maybe you’ve nailed the rate on your mare’s first barrel, or you’ve perfected your gelding’s headset and he’s staying on the vertical. Even those bad rides have things to teach us. This past year, for example, Pistol started bucking. Every. Single. Ride. My confidence was in the gutter, and I spent every free minute of my day researching equine behavior – trying to figure out the why of her sudden change in behavior. Those were long, exhausting months. I never knew what to expect when I got a leg over, but I didn’t give up – and now, half a year later, we’re better than we’ve ever been. The work paid off, as it always does.

I got off on a tangent – I had an idea for today’s post…and it went off the rails. But that’s what happens when you just get into a flow, and if I’m being honest, this is the easiest words have come to me since I started this page – and as far as I’m concerned, that must mean I’m doing something right. I didn’t cover even a quarter of what I wanted to today, but that’s okay: there’s always tomorrow.
Thank you to everyone who has taken the time to like or follow the page, it means a lot to me. I would tell you it means a lot to Pistol, too, but we all know the universal truth about horses: they care about what’s real and what’s in front of them. Food, water, shelter, and – if they’re lucky – the love of a person who adores them. But it’s that shared passion for these animals that brought you to this page in the first place. If you’re like me, your horse is your family, and all that hard work, all that money, it’s all priceless in comparison to the joy you feel when you look at your baby (who just so happens to weigh in at half a ton.)

P.S. What got you into horses? Tell me about your first horse, the horse you have today, or your dream horse! Share a picture if you feel like it!

The days are getting shorter and cooler, and we all know what that means. Every year, it's hard for me to grapple with the seasonal reckoning that's right around the corner. Minutes of our day chipped away as the leaves fall from the trees; right up until our daylight is devoured entirely by the winter solstice. Days like this, where the sun is shining and the sky is a crisp blue, I want to be at the barn. Who am I kidding, though? I always want to be at the barn.

I spend most of my day inside a cubicle, glancing at my watch – counting down the hours. It doesn’t matter if I’ll spend my time grooming, riding, or doing chores – I want to be there. Today’s biggest question is: what will I do after I feed the horses their dinner and fill the morning hay nets? I typically have my week planned out, but I wasn’t expecting today to be so lovely and sunny. I had rollbacks and drills on the agenda for this evening, but now? Now, I’m thinking a little trail ride through the woods with my favorite girl might be the perfect way to end the day.

It’s a gift to know when to step back and take it easy. Pistol’s been working hard for me, almost every day. We started Friday with a short trail ride and ended it after a series of rollbacks and hurricane drills in the arena. We’ve both been putting in the effort to be stronger, faster, and better all around, and the hope is that by next season, all that patience and work will pay off.

But having quiet rides through the woods are as important – if not more so – than drilling the barrel pattern. I’ve never pushed Pistol hard on barrels, and maybe that’s why we’re not further along; and that’s okay. Taking our time has granted us the opportunity to lay down a solid foundation that I wouldn’t trade for anything. And right now, I want to soak up every minute in the sun we can get – breathing in the smell of the leaves as they change, enjoying the feel of Pistol’s strong, warm neck under my palm. It’s those little moments out in the woods where it’s quiet and still that I feel like we truly connect; no expectations, just peace. Setting her down the path on a lose rein is one of her favorite things, that exchange of trust has made us more solid partners than any arena drill ever could.

So I think that today, we’ll take a gentle ride through the trees. We’ll see how much the leaves have changed since Saturday – we’ll breathe in the day and be grateful for the time we’ll spend together. We’ll ease back into our work this week I think, and hit the trail every chance we get. Even if it means donning a particularly alarming shade of orange – it is hunting season, after all…be careful out there, and ride well!

P.S. With winter coming around the corner…do you have any new things you want to try? Pistol and I are going to try to do some English riding!

I spend a lot of time thinking about how my horse has changed me. In big ways and small ways, she has profoundly shaped the person I am today. It takes a Hell of a lot of courage to swing a leg over a thousand-pound animal; once you've spent some time around them, you realize just what these animals are capable of. They're big, they're unpredictable, they're flighty – they’re not machines, carefully calibrated to be safe – they are living, breathing creatures, and they miraculously grant us the privilege to sit on their backs and ride them.

I will never take that gift for granted, but when you think of it – even the sturdiest old trail horse can experience a flight response that results in injury to the rider. For some people, riding a horse is a once in a lifetime experience; they sign a waiver that covers the “inherent risk” of equine activity, and that’s that. They don’t think too much of it. They go for their trail ride, take a few pictures, and call it a day.

But there are those of us who sit in a saddle for the first time and that’s it; from that moment on, the sport defines us. Our identities as people become uniquely tied to these fantastic four-legged beasts, and they change us.

I thought college had molded me into a braver person – but what really toughened me up was riding. There’s nothing like a few humbling falls to make you realize it’s all about one thing: getting up, dusting yourself off, and climbing back on. There aren’t many life lessons more important than that.

And it takes courage to get back on; sometimes, it’s with shaking hands and sweaty palms – but you get back on. That’s what matters. Pushing past the feelings of fear and inadequacy, it’s learning to trust yourself and your horse. I think that’s where our true power as riders comes from; it’s that mutual trust and understanding – that we take years to forge – with our equine partners. There’s so much strength in that trust, and I think it’s the basis for cultivating the courage that horsemen and women need to saddle up. Without it, there’s nothing – trust is the basis for every relationship, with humans and horses.

Feeling secure in our partnerships is the foundation for the grit we have to have to compete, to school, to master new skills. But it extends far beyond the barn, when you really dig into it – when you really dedicate yourself to the kind of persistence it takes to form a lasting bond with your animal. You learn that there aren’t many things out there worth fearing, worth balking at. You can handle half a ton of horseflesh, so why shouldn’t you be able to stand up for yourself, and show some teeth when you have to?

Riding has certainly sharpened my teeth, but it’s done so much more than that. There are, after all, different kinds of strength. It’s not all about speaking your truth and standing your ground – fighting fire with fire, so to speak; horses teach us the power of patience. Sometimes, all you need to do is stand still and breathe; learn to observe, learn to wait. Easier said than done, patience; it’s a virtue that either comes quite naturally, or can take years to refine, if you’re committed enough. But our horses are masters of patience. Maybe not at feed time, but watch them sometime, when they’re out in the pasture. They know when it’s time to stand still, time to breathe, time to watch. They look out for one another, and if you take the time to listen to them, they’ll look out for you, too.

They are truly the most selfless partners. They carry us, they teach us, they lend us their incredible strength – in more ways than one.

I don't have any goals with this page, I'm coming to it completely from a place of need: I miss writing, and if adopting a blog-style presence on Facebook makes it easier for me to cram a bit of typing back into my day, so be it. I'm okay with that.

Truth be told, I've only written publicly once or twice. It took several years of college film classes to become comfortable with my voice, and the way that I write. I don't obsess about the style or the tone, I miss writing for the pure enjoyment of it. If there's a way to fit it back into my daily life -- I'll try it. If people want to read along, that's great, but if not, that's okay too. This page is going to be stream of conscience, day-by-day kind of stuff. And it'll center on the thing that's taken over my life for the past two years: horses. More specifically, my own special girl, Pistol.

I don't expect everyone to understand the deep passion that comes with this lifestyle; and yeah, it is a lifestyle. It's a choice equestrians make; we all sacrifice things in pursuit of this great passion of ours -- but honestly, I wouldn't have it any other way. It's blood, sweat, and tears, but it's also laughter, bravery, and friendship -- it's my whole life.

“Riding a horse is not a gentle hobby, to be picked up and laid down like a game of solitaire. It is a grand passion. It seizes a person whole and once it has done so, he (or she) will have to accept that his life will be radically changed.” I think about that quote a lot. There is no exaggeration, no dramatics -- it is a simple, deep truth. I find this passion, this obsession, to be a blessing. It brings out the best in me -- I am a different person because of my intrinsic love for all things equine.

This page is a monument to that. It'll be a living, breathing memory bank for the future -- something I hope to look back on and smile at. I hope you find yourself smiling, too. Come along for the ride with us.