Lucky Kachina Dancer

The Story So Far:

I first saw Kachina late December (2008), in a trailer bound for Redding, CA. The woman who owned the trailer had just picked her up from Southern California and was breezing through my stable, where she was picking up a horse she'd just bought from one of the boarders.

The woman casually mentioned that she had a paint for sale, in case we knew anyone who was interested. I was not interested. Paints have never really floated my boat; I've always found their flashiness overrated. But, being curious about any horse, I strolled over to the trailer to take a look. I only saw her face, but I was breathless, instantly in love.

When I asked for more information about the horse, trying (and probably failing) to seem nonchalant, the woman had nothing to provide. "Well," I asked, "what's her name at least?" The woman shrugged, gave my an apologetic half-smile and replied "I dunno. I don't remember." Then she loaded her new horse into the trailer and left me there, with only her card and an unsettling sense of longing. I'd already named the horse before the trailer disappeared from view.

I was not looking for a horse. I owned one, I shared the cost of another, and I worked with one more. I was responsible for three horses already, and I did not have the time or the money to throw another into the mix. I didn't even have the spare $500 the woman was willing to sell the horse for, and I could see no way of raising it with money being as ellusive as it was. But I couldn't get the filly off my mind. I dreamt about her that night (and almost every night since then), and it only took one more day before I e-mailed the woman about going up to Redding -- a four-hour drive -- to see the horse.

I figured there was no harm in just looking. I'd always wanted to go on a road trip, and I'd heard that Redding was very beautiful. I'd drag my friend P along, and we'd make a day of it, get up there and realize that the horse was bratty, or fearful, or pushy, or there was just no connection, and then I'd forget the whole thing.

I told no one but P about my plans; about wanting the horse or going up to see it. I claimed I had to work that Saturday, filled up my pickup truck, and my co-pilot and I headed out, not entirely sure of where we were going or what would happen.

The drive was beautiful. Redding looks a lot like how I'd imagine Colorado to look; with mountains, snow-topped mountains, in the background and long, flat land dotted with cows, crops and the occasional old red barn. The day was chilly, but bright, and we sang along to Bob Dylan almost the entire way.

When we reached the ranch, the first thing we noticed was pastures and pastures of Haflinger horses (which was the owner, Holly's, specialty). The second thing we noticed was a camel in one of the paddocks. The third was my filly, out in the roundpen. We pulled into the drive, by the barn, where Holly and a Pudel Pointer named Dee-Dee came out to meet us ("You're the first person to know what she was!" Holly exclaimed when I'd asked her if Dee-Dee was a Pudel. "Well," I'd replied, "I am a dog trainer").

Holly brought the filly in -- who's name, she told me, was "Sheila" (yeah, I cringed too) -- and let me brush her down. Then she rounded off her hooves, which I were relieved to see were barefoot and in good shape, and gave me the leadrope to do whatever I wanted.

I brought the filly back to the roundpen. I'd never actively sought out a horse to buy; my other horses had all been rescues who had found me, or been dropped in my lap. I had a basic idea of what I should be looking for -- conformation, hooves, movement -- but really, I just wanted to get a sense of her personality and temperament. In the first few minutes she tried to establish a bond with me, and with my pilot. I rubbed my hands all over her, and she sniffed me curiously but did not protest or move away. Then I walked away and she followed. So then I asked her to trot, and she complied (she had the most beautiful and graceful movements I'd ever seen in a young horse). I instantly knew that my plan had failed; the horse was perfect.

Holly took us inside and told us she'd gotten information on the filly's parents. We looked them up on the All-Breed Registry and, I should have known, her pedigree was amazing. Seven hall-of-fame horses that I knew of on her sire's side alone. All racing or cow horses, with a few halter horses thrown in. Not only was she beautiful, graceful, willing and smart, but she was also genetically setup for what I'd always wanted to do: compete in cutting and team-penning.

Holly told us that Sheila was born on a breeding ranch, owned by an elderly horseman. When the man died, his son inherited the property. The son only wanted the land, and hated horses, so he shipped them all -- Sheila included -- off to slaughter. A woman saved as many as she could, and dispersed them to different horse people she knew in order to find them homes. Holly, who raised Haflingers, wasn't interested in Paints; she told us that she liked Sheila's mind, and wanted to help her. Hence the $500 buying price -- not much more than what one would get for her at the slaughter house.

I thanked Holly, told her I'd be in touch, and P and I drove off. I asked what his opinion was, and he told me that he thought she was an extremely special, extremely sweet horse. I didn't need his varification; I already knew, before we left the ranch, that I'd have to find a way to buy her.

The next person I told about the horse was my mother. Most of what I know about horses, I've learned from her. When my mother was seven-months pregnant with me, she was attacked by a loose stallion while going to get her mare out of the arena, and kicked in the stomach. My mom's mare, Sage, fought the attacker off long enough for my mom to be pulled out of the arena and taken to the hospital. As a result, I was born premature, almost in the arena. My mom and I have shared a special love of horses ever since. All I had to do was tell my mom about the filly -- tell her how I felt when I first saw her, and how she acted around me -- and my mom knew that I'd found my "diamond in the rough" like she had, once upon a time, with Sage. But she warned me, I had better ask my grandfather first, or I'd have trouble in the long run.

My grandfather has been a cowboy all of his life. I'm not talking the drugstore vairety. I'm talking in the mud, breaking colts, moving cattle, mending fences cowboy. In his younger days, he was one of the best known Team-Penners in the country; he competed nationally, all over the country, and has a room full of trophy saddles and buckles. He's certainly one of the best known Black horsemen in California. It's rare to see him without his dirty straw cowboy hat, his cigar, or his beaten old boots (I don't think he's ever bought a new hat or pair of boots). He's broke, trained and competed on countless horses, and even the people who don't like him have to admire his skill. He's also gruff, critical, blunt and onery. So of course, I wanted his opinion, but I was also worried that he wouldn't approve of the filly. My mom and I both knew that, if he didn't like her, it was for a good reason, and neither of us wanted to think about the prospect of me not getting her. But the hard fact was that I just didn't have the money to invest in a horse that wasn't worth investing in, no matter how much I liked her.

So, that weekend, I printed out her parents' pedigree, researched and highlighted all of the notable horses and their accomplishments, worked up a convincing argument ("Look at all of these hall-of-famers! And she's a very unique color, and a mare! And look at that conformation! At the very least, we could resell her for twice what we paid.") -- but I didn't need any of them. Granpa took a look at her background, almost bored, folded the paper back up and handed to me, lit his cigar and said "You can't go wrong with any horse for $500." Then he told me to send $250 as a downpayment, and if I didn't have the rest of the money by the time the horse arrived, to let him know. My mom cried while we cleaned stalls. I just couldn't stop grinning.

I sent the downpayment off the next day, but I was still worried about how I'd get the rest. Ontop of the additional $250, it would cost $90 to bring her down. I knew Granpa would help if I needed it, but I hated borrowing money and this was something I wanted to do on my own. I just couldn't see a way to cut back, especially with Christmas only a week away. But Mom told me not to worry, that it'd work out. Man, did it.

I work at a Dog Daycare. I love my job, and the people I work for, and our clients. Before joining this business, I worked at another daycare that could care less about me, about the dogs or about the clients. It was all about making money. I truly believe that some of the best people in the world bring their dogs to where I work now, and they proved it. I needed $340 for Sheila. In gifts from clients, and from my boss, I received $345 -- enough for my horse, and to buy lunch that day (which I was going to skip). I will never doubt the cosmos again.

The filly was scheduled to be delivered on January 10th. By now, there were more people involved: P and Mom, of course, but also my friends Donna and Tony. The filly would be spending two years at their beautiful home in Redwood Park, keeping their mare Fancy company. Fancy's foal, S'Prize, had just been weaned and the mare was feeling lonely. We all thought it'd be a perfect fit, and now Donna and Tony were just as excited to see the filly arrive.

January 9th came. I'd been all week planning a Welcoming Party at the stables, and inviting everyone (it's extremely rare that I attend parties, much less throw them). All that was left was to call Holly to confirm the time of delivery. Unfortunately, when I called, Holly told me that she'd had trouble with a hay delivery, so she wouldn't be able to bring the filly down until Tuesday. Disappointed, I had to inform everyone that the party was off, and prepare myself for four more days of anxious waiting.

When Tuesday came, I took off from work half an hour early and P and I zipped out to the stables. The first thing we saw as we pulled up was Holly's huge five-horse trailer. Then we caught sight of Holly, sitting on the ground next to the hitching post, and my filly tied up and munching on Timothy. I jumped out of the car (I think it was still moving), thanked Holly and gave her the other half of the payment. We chatted for a bit, but it was mostly due to politeness; I couldn't wait to put my halter on the filly and walk her around. As we watched Holly drive off, I gave the filly her new name -- Kachina.


I spent the rest of the day brushing her, walking her around the stable and introducing her to her new herd. Maverick, the leader of our little three-horse (now four-horse) herd, took an instant liking to her, making Kachina's assimilation into the herd seamless. In a few seconds they were all running around together, her little hacked off tail held high in pure bliss.


The next day my boss insisted that I only work a half-day ("If I'd just bought a horse," she said over a text message, "you wouldn't even see me!"). I left work around 11:30, which gave me enough time to drive out to the Thoroughbred racetrack nearby and buy her a bale of Timothy hay to help her transition. When I made it out to the stables, the first thing I did was put all of the horses out in the arena again to see what would happen. Like the day before, they raced around the arena and played, Kachina now an official member of the herd. I took some video of her to show my boss, then took her out to start working with her.

The only problem she seemed to have was her tendency to shy away when you tried to touch her ears, so I spent a good amount of time rubbing her neck and face, working my way up around her ears. When I could touch an ear without her flinching away, I praised her and moved on to desensitizing her to my training stick and string. She stood there as I tried everything I could think of to spook her, completely trusting and willing to do everything I asked. "Whoever the old man was that bred her must have really loved her," I marveled. After a few minutes of working with her and the stick, I put her away for the night.

Because of family obligations, I couldn't visit her the next day (something I bemoaned about the entire day), so I didn't see her again until that Friday. That same day I had received her own, personal training stick, training lead, and grown-up rope halter (she was already almost too big for the yearling size I'd bought) -- all in red, her designated color.

We put her out with the other horses, and I had intended on desensitizing her to my leather chinks, but I spent the whole time marveling at how she interacted with the other horses. Maverick, Gypsy and Rico were all out there, and one of the other boarders put her horse Vinnie out with them. It was amazing to watch how closely she had bonded with Maverick. When Maverick began herding the other horses into a huddle, she broke from the group and began mimicking him.

Saturday was her last day with Maverick and the others before we moved her to Tony and Donna's, which made it a little bittersweet. I left her out in the arena with them while I cleaned stalls, and snapped a few pictures. The stable, which is pretty empty during the week, becomes active on the weekends, so this was my one day to really show Kachina off.

While the herd was in the arena , Brian -- one of the boarders -- saddled up his giant Belguim mare, Lily, and took her in to ride. Lily is very athletic for a giant draft horse, but isn't entirely trained under saddle yet. The mare took off, headed straight for the herd and, while the other horses deftly raced away, Kachina figured the best escape route was over the arena's five-foot wall. I turned around just in time to watch her clear the barrier completely, and land on the other side without so much as a bit of soreness. Even more amazing, after she'd settled her nerves, she stood still and allowed me to come up to her and grab her collar without trying to run away from me.

I've never worked with a horse that's so intelligent, willing and athletic. I'm both excited and afraid; she came to me as a blank slate, so any problems she develops will be entirely my fault. It's equal parts a rare gift, and a daunting responsibility.

That's Kachina's story so far. Tomorrow she will move into her new home, right in the middle of Redwood Park, and meet her caretakers, Tony and Donna, and her new companion, Fancy, for the first time. Based on what I've seen so far, I don't anticipate any problems between Kachina and Fancy.

I'm going to miss watching her run and interact with the herd -- especially with Maverick -- but Tony and Donna's place will be the perfect place for her to spend her young years. And, eventually, she'll get the chance to rejoin Maverick's herd.