How do you explain the very moment in time when you find that one horse that deeply affects your life? You just know the very second your eyes meet. There's a depth of emotion and connection rarely experienced. I'm so very fortunate to have found that special horse. The introduction to my mare was less than favorable to say the least. I still can't explain why I bought her, but we share a bond to this day that can never be broken.
My quest for a dressage mount took months. As a last desperate measure, I took my friend and coach, Kathy, to look at a young mare right off the race track.
"Don't buy that one, she won't be competitive. She has a bad attitude toward life and it'll be an uphill battle to train her," whispered Kathy.
The reedy sorrel mare in question stood before us, ears pinned, nose pinched, with a hind leg cocked and ready to kick. She was breathtakingly beautiful but exhibited distaste for humans with her body. However, her eyes told a different story. To me, those eyes wanted deeply to trust if only given a chance.
A quick glance at Kathy, then a long look to her owner, I said, "I'll take her."
"Could you excuse us a minute, we'll be right back," Kathy said as she tugged my arm.
We walked ten feet away out of earshot of the owner before she unleashed her opinion, eyes rolling.
"Have you lost your mind? I know you're on a budget, but that mare is going to hurt you. She's only three and that bad attitude is only going to get worse with time."
I couldn't help how I felt. The mare's soft liquid eyes showed a contrast between her body language and what was going on upstairs in her brain. The road would be a tough one, but I was up for the challenge. If I could gain her trust, then all would be easy.
"Kathy, the deal is done. I'm taking her. Did you see how soft her eyes were?" I asked.
"Oh for crying out loud, you think they all have soft eyes. I'm not going to change your mind, am I?"
I shook my head and replied, "Nope, not a chance."
Kathy shrugged her shoulders, "Okay, but don't say I didn't warn you. Cut the lady her check and I'll load the mare."
The check written, registration papers in hand, I walked toward the two horse slant-load trailer we'd brought with high hopes. Rounding the corner of the trailer, I was dismayed at what I saw.
The mare was rearing, steadfastly refusing to load in the trailer. She kicked out, snaked her head to bite, trotted circles, anything to avoid the task at hand. Kathy was no novice; having trained and shown horses all her life, yet the mare seemed to know all the tricks of evasion. Intimidation was second nature to the mare and she had the upper hand. Finally, the mare stood, nose flared, on the muscle and ready for round two.
With a look of disgust, Kathy handed her lead rope to me. "Here. You load her. She's your problem now."
I took the coil of rope and led the mare away from the trailer. I stopped nearby and let her crop grass to relax. Kathy stood at the trailer, hands on hips, expectantly waiting for the show to begin again.
Stroking the mare's graceful neck gently, I said softly, "I know you're type. We're a lot alike. I don't trust a lot of humans either, but if you give me just this one chance, I promise that you'll never be mistreated or want for anything. It'll be just you and me, kid."
As I fed a piece of carrot to the mare, her muscles relaxed and it seemed as though she understood my vow to her. Her ears were forward and she softly nuzzled my hands seeking more carrot bits. I took advantage of her relaxation and led her toward the trailer.
A foot away from the doors, the mare hesitated but didn't rear. I clucked once and said quietly, "Load up girl, I always keep my promises. Trust me this one time."
To my shock and amazement, the mare walked quietly into the trailer and stood waiting for the door to be closed behind her.
Kathy was dumbfounded. "What did you do?"
I replied, "Remember when we first met? You insisted that I ride that huge gray gelding I was terrified of. You looked me straight in the eye and said "trust me". Believe me, it took everything I had, but I trusted you that day."
"Yes, but what does that have to do with that sour mare?"
"She's not sour," I insisted. "She just doesn't know how to trust. I made a promise to her and I intend to keep the promise. I understand her."
"Have you named her?" asked Kathy.
"Oh yeah, that's easy. Her name is Mercy. You might as well get used to her quirks. She'll be with me until one of us dies."
Sixteen years later, I ran into Kathy again while she was giving a child lessons. After catching up on old times, we agreed to meet at my place for lunch. The next day, as we strolled down the barn aisle talking about each horse, Mercy lunged out of her stall door, ears pinned.
"Oh my God!" said Kathy, "You still have her."
"Of course I do. She's retired now after so many years of dressage. I got her to schooling second level, but it really wasn't her thing. I've learned that beneath the hard exterior, beats a soft heart. She's really all blow and wouldn't consciously hurt anyone."
Kathy chuckled softly and said, "Guess who that sounds like?"
"Yep, I know. Like I said, I've learned a lot from her. Sometimes I think we're cut from the same bolt of cloth. You've heard the term "kindred spirits"? We are that, no doubt about it," I said, as I stroked the mare's neck, pinned ears and all.