It’s humbling in the best way for me to look back on the past year. When Phineas arrived, I was certain that I had bought a fun little project that I would help to reach his full potential. What happened was that he came and did the beginning of that work on me instead.
The fun part of buying Phineas was that it was an adventure from the start. I am not a risktaker by nature, not even a little bit, so deciding to buy a horse via the Internet and FaceTime was to me a huge unknown. Except that even when I Facetimed with him there was something about his expression and his eye that made me feel confirmed that I was choosing correctly. (Yes, I had an amazing buying experience that included multiple FaceTime moments. I highly recommend a live feed!) He was peaceful and trusting with his person. He was also adorable! A buckskin pinto? Are you kidding me?! And he was a cute little mover with what I considered a good price tag. I felt that I had found the perfect project.
He arrived and I let him decompress for a week or so because when he first hopped off his long, long trailer ride, he was wild-eyed and slightly terrified. He wasn’t sure who in the world we were and if we were good or worthy of trust, but try to trust was all he could do honestly when his lead rope was in my hand. I remember that night when he got to our place, he unloaded in the dark with some outdoor lighting on because it was late, and he was trembling when he stepped off the rig. I felt so bad for him. The walk down to my barn doesn’t usually feel very long, but that night it felt like a mile long. My poor new pony was startled by every noise in the tree line across from the barn. I was just relieved when we got through the yard to the barn because we had made it without me getting sideswiped by the terrified little guy or him accidentally getting away from me. I thought he’d find some comfort in the other horses, but he was so exhausted and on edge that he just stood in his stall with tired eyes. Not pacing, not trembling, just a statue. When I went into the stall with him though, he turned and reached his nose out to me. I knew in that moment that we were good. If we were already at the point that he reached my direction even a little, we were leaps and bounds beyond where we could start at.
After a couple of statue-type days, he decompressed fully. What was interesting is that I have observed horses with that freeze response, but they typically build up and then sort of explode in some way with the negative energy. This little guy did not. He was also very aware of the herd structure when I put him out there with the other geldings, and he wasn’t a wimp, but he had no desire to fight for a place in the hierarchy. He just navigated each personality but never invited any challenges and wasn’t bullied either. Perhaps this savvy in a group is from his prior life which we can only speculate about. He was bought in a loose ring at an auction, and in this saved from being bought by the kill buyers. I’m guessing being in those huge groups of horses he probably learned a lot about how to blend and make good herd choices. He just never decided it was worth it here to work on that herd structure. It’s as if he had the mentality of, ‘Hey, it looks like there is plenty here. I don’t need to fight for any resources.’ But even in that, there was trust. Trust that he was taken care of now.
When I got him out for his first rides, he was again, what I would consider green but quiet. Not wanting to go forward really, but nothing extreme. He wiggled around the arena and spooked some at some of the road noise, but it was more startles and then continue than anything dramatic or unsurmountable. I remember a few rides in thinking, ‘I think this is the most agile horse at wiggling I’ve ever ridden,’ as he felt like a slinky going down the long side. But I never felt unsafe with him. Just that he was looking for leadership.
The reason he was looking for leadership though was because of trust. I felt and still feel so honored that this creature chose to trust me without any type of reckoning between us. It’s like our energy just worked together immediately. It was actually hard not to compare it to my somewhat sensitive mare, Dahlia. With her, I must work to be what she needs for each ride, and sometimes I win and sometimes I lose. She stretches me, sometimes to my core. But this sweet pony, he was just a joy… a big, deep breath for me. I wasn’t worried; I could just laugh at his spooks and antics, and I felt that he wanted to find the right answer all the time. It was just a different thing of beauty in my life. And something I sorely needed due to a particularly stressful work year for me. But this pony even in his greenness was grounding for me. He brought curiosity out in me, something that can only really happen for me if I’m more confident and leaning towards playfulness. Even the first canter depart, which can be kind of wonky on a greenie, he just stepped right into it. Now, he wasn’t beautifully balanced, but that was ok. He was prompt and wanted to be good.
During this time I was sidelined with Dahlia because she was injured, so Phineas went from second horse to primary horse. And as we worked through the Fall and Winter, I began to realize that the first horse I’d be showing at the rated level again after having a baby wouldn’t be my mare but would be this pony! My last rated show felt like it was a lifetime ago at that point, but it was really because so much life had happened in those four years. In November of 2018 at our Championships in my area, I had no idea that I was pregnant. I had a smidge of an idea that my gelding Maximus may be at one of his last shows, but I didn’t think it was the LAST show. For most of 2019 I was pregnant. Then I had our son in August of that year. So, though I had ridden Max through a lot of the pregnancy, I wasn’t riding for training, but more for exercise and maintenance for him, and for mental health for me. It took the winter of 2019 to realize I would need a new horse, and I luckily bought Dahlia right before Covid kicked off. Having her during that quiet time at home was wonderful, and I started taking her to some schooling shows at the very end of 2020 with the hopeful anticipation that 2021 was our year. But unfortunately, Dahlia injured herself in the Spring of 2021 and after the fall of riding other horses, I decided I wanted another horse in addition to riding her. I found Phineas in September of 2021, and by October, I had my project pony. Dahlia’s recovery didn’t come as quickly as we anticipated so when show season was kicking off and Phineas looked ready to do Intro level, it was a no-brainer to go ahead and get him out there.
What was unnerving for me was just how rusty I felt in that environment. I did not have a pattern yet for getting ready, how to navigate the entries efficiently, or even how to get myself organized well on the day of a show. So instead of being there for Phineas, I was really trying to just sort out how it all worked again, first at a couple of schooling shows and then at a rated dressage show in April. What was wonderful was how game he was. He stepped into new environments with interest. If he was timid at first, it changed to curiosity, and he was so willing to focus and work. This was from a young 4-year-old. A young four-year-old who had attended one show before I bought him. I truly feel that he just transferred that trust, and when I needed him, I realized I could trust him as he had trusted me to begin with. He didn’t exactly know what to anticipate either, but our connection helped us be there for each other and communicate well.
We had a fantastic and just plain fun season this year, and we’re rolling up to the championships this weekend, our last time out this season. I have held his trust and he has held mine for the entire time. When I’ve needed him, he’s been there for me and so comforting and steady even though he’s young. And when he needs a little comfort (like when we must trot by scary sound systems or flapping tents) I’m there for him. He’s given me the gift of helping me feel at ease in an environment that I love, and I’m particularly happy to see that he is as curious as he was when we started the season, but he’s more peaceful. He gets to the venue now, looks around, and finds his content place. Even if there are sticky moments, I feel like we find our flow through them as well. I’m incredibly grateful for this first year and for everything we’ve experienced together out and about.
Every time Phineas walks to greet me in the pasture at home, I’m grateful that he’s showing me how happy he is even by choosing to come to find me over eating or hanging with his friends. When he’s needed more rest between training, he’s demonstrated it in the kindest way possible as a growing young horse, and I’ve been able to listen and modify what we do. He’s grown this year physically and emotionally, but he’s helped me grow emotionally and spiritually. I can’t even express what the joy that bringing him along has brought me. It just makes my heart super full. And I think part of it is that I‘ve tried to shift my mind to what success means to me. I’ve made an active choice to have success be less about the color of the ribbon, and more about the experience of it with him. Getting to the venue and having a confident pony: that’s success. Figuring out the right warm-up and making it out there on time: that’s success. Having my pony walk past the flapping tent without fear or even being fearful but looking to me: that’s success. And seeing the scores as a progression and a touchpoint for training, that’s a huge success for me personally. That’s also not to say that I’m perfect—I definitely have to check myself a lot with the scores part. But I’ve gained some perspective: that he feels proud frequently when we’re done for the day. And more confident, and that matters a ton to me. I don’t want to bring negativity back to Phineas because of my struggle with perfection. It’s been a beautiful journey this first year, one of development for both of us in some enriching way. I just can’t even wait for more of it.
There’s one last measure of success that makes me smile every single time: it’s having a little girl tell me she likes my pony. It means more than any other compliment. He’s a pony that little girls dream of, and he brought back my little girl joy of horses in a way I didn’t think was even possible as an adult. For that, I will always be grateful. He came to remind me of that girl and that’s she still here… I’m sure of it.
