Each week we make the drive an hour south, to a ranch where Laurèn rides and works with her leased horse Pita. At H.T. Ranch, we have found horses and nature, but more importantly, we have been embraced into a group of rider-members who treat us like family, and allow us to be whatever we need to be when we show up. Even though I do not ride, I feel every bit as welcome as Laurèn. I love the ranch. It fills me up in ways that I did not know existed.
In the midst of the emotional difficulty of managing my life, the horses find me, and offer just what I need. Presence. Magnificence. Comfort. Warmth. Laughter.
I have not always been comfortable with the free-roaming that the horses do at the ranch. They often met us at the van—their lips spread across the window, revealing large, brown-stained incisors. They licked the window the way a dog licks a plate clean. I would use (then) eight, or nine-year-old Laurèn as a shield to get from the van to the barn. Pods of two or three horses moseyed over to us, curious as puppies. This behaviour was bizarre to me; I previously thought that horses were sort of snobbish—almost regal—meant to be observed from a distance.
One winter day, Laurèn’s second year of riding, the Young Riders rode on a sled pulled by two Clydesdales. I walked across the field with my dog Abby. As we approached a group of horses in the middle of the pasture, Abby playfully bounded. One of the horses got spooked and bolted. In response, the herd scattered, the same way that the cue ball scatters the racked balls in billiards. However, each horse arced toward a common point—Abby. And Abby ran directly back to me. I froze and began to moan. I put my arms up to cover my head. Abby came straight back to me, and stopped. The stampeding horses spread around us as if we were a rock formation in a flowing river. It scared the bejeebbers out of me, while providing great entertainment for adults and children on the sled.
After that experience, I learned how to move a horse out of my personal space, at first with a flicking of my hands and a “ffffttt…fffftt” with my lips, and then eventually I could apply pressure to the horses’ shoulder, and it would back up. I also learned what to do if there is a stampede: get “big”, and in a loud, but calm voice say, “Whoa down. Hey there. Steady”; and divert the stampede by directing them with your arms.
Ross and Dee, who own the ranch, have the energy of teenagers, the bodies of on-paper-only seniors, the minds of seasoned sages, and the resilience of pilgrims. They have been around the pasture a few times, and really know what they are doing. As well as being parents, and (now) grandparents, four decades ago, they got involved in fostering children, and working with at-risk youth. Their initial ranch provided a place for at-risk girls to be themselves, and through working with horses, Ross said they witnessed miraculous changes in the kids. “These kids need adrenaline in their lives, so we provide that,” he said.
On their website, they write, “Horses have been used to bring about change in many areas: those battling disease, families struggling with relationships, individuals overcoming addictions, those handling PTSD, facing unfounded anxiety, those with autism or Asperger’s and others just unable to cope with day to day life. [Horses] have traits that encourage us to be open, ready to discover more about ourselves, and face the future with a sense of purpose. Horses do not lie. There is nothing artificial about a horse. They don’t care who is looking at them, or what the person thinks about them. Horses make no judgments. They value and accept each person as they are. Horses listen when you speak. They will look at you and, regardless of your fears, accept you for who you are”.
Given the amount of time that Ross and Dee spend with the horses, many of those characteristics have rubbed off on them. Their kindness, and willingness to be available, is uncustomary. Even though Ross and Dee are “technically” at an age when retirement would be a natural progression, they continue to give to people and horses in need. Many of the thirty-one horses come from a rescue, rehabilitation or retraining background.
Laurèn began riding Pita—a stunning, black, part-Friesian, part-Quarter Horse—just over a year ago. Pita’s withers are at least six inches above Laurèn’s shoulder; he weighs about 1,800 pounds. Laurèn is 5’5”, and about 95 pounds. Thank goodness she is all leg, because she can swing herself up onto Pita bareback. We have been out to the ranch twice this week, and spending time with Pita has filled us both up. The changes in Pita and Laurèn over their year together are immeasurable.
Here is Pita’s story, as given to me by Ross:
Pita had been obtained by a young woman who had ambitions of being an eventer – cross country, dressage and show-jumping. However, Pita was not so inclined. He bucked everyone off that tried to work with him. He was stabled out in the country for a while, but he escaped from his paddock and joined the “wildies” on the Chiniki First Nations Reserve west of Calgary.
I was contracted to do some equine work with a group of men from three reserves – the Chiniki, the Wesley and the Bearspaw. Due to the nature of the program, it was my decision to use feral horses from the reserve. A group of riders from the H.T. Ranch organized and operated a round-up of about twenty feral horses. Pita was among them.
When we managed to corral the group, my eyes were naturally drawn to that magnificent black horse. Little did I know it was going to be a wonderful challenge. A number of the men tried to ride him, but were summarily bucked off and landed in the middle of the corral. If you could stay on for ten seconds, you got twenty dollars. No one collected the money. It was my turn.
I am not a rodeo cowboy. After significant ground work, I was able to safely get on Pita and ride him in the corral. Over the next sixteen weeks of the contracted program, I got to know and work with this horse on quite a deep level. I had a ball!
He got the name PITA from Pain In The Ass because he had developed this horrible reputation.
When the contract was finished, I had to leave him behind—I didn’t own him. Shortly thereafter, he went back wild.
I was contacted and was given the opportunity to purchase this horse. The price started high, but I knew they couldn’t catch him, so negotiations were quickly brought to a reasonable level. I got my truck, hooked on the trailer and went to the reserve. I parked the trailer in the bush, blew the horn and whistled. Pita came out of the bush and jumped into the trailer. The rest, they say, is history.
When Laurèn began to work with Pita, she looked forward to the challenge Pita would provide, but she was appropriately cautious while riding him. She found him powerful, and she lacked the confidence she needed to manage him. One day this spring, Ross took the group of Young Riders for a long ride. It was one of the first times Laurèn took Pita beyond the “regular” fences that defined the ranch. Pita took off in a full gallop, and Laurèn, unable to stop him, used all of her riding skill to stay on his back. He eventually came to a fence, and stopped. When Ross described the event to me later, he did so with a hearty laugh, detailing how fast Pita went, and how amazing it was that Laurèn managed to stay on. After that however, Laurèn would not take Pita out of the corralled areas. She focused on ground work, building a trust relationship, and—of course—getting him to stop when she wanted him to. It took months.
Laurèn could have asked to work with an “easier” horse; Ross could have decided that Pita was too much horse for her to handle—but neither of them did. Slowly, and steadily Laurèn built her confidence and her relationship with her horse, and now one of her favourite things to do is to take him out on a “rip”. I have witnessed it, and horse and rider become an extension of each other, in beautiful synchrony.
But, the greater change that I have witnessed is in the shifting of demeanour in this pair. Pita is softer . . . more attentive and responsive to Laurèn; and Laurèn is loving, and appreciative of Pita’s strength, and struggle. They naturally complement one another. When Laurèn agreed to work with Pita, I would not approach him; he seemed a bit agitated to me, and he was just so big. However, through repeatedly being in the barn while Laurèn grooms her horse, Pita and I have developed mutual tolerance, and then respect for one another. His beauty is eye-catching, but his gentleness is soul-catching.
