The Barn Rat Education

I'll be the first to admit it: I grew up spoiled, as far as horses were concerned. I had tons of time, I had an incredible pair of trainers to work with, the barn was 15 minutes down the road AND usually on the way to wherever my parents may be going, I had a friend who also rode at the same barn so her parents and mine could trade off barn trips, and I had the luxury of a LOT of riding time. Now, I worked for that riding time, and I was never a "show up, ride, and leave" kind of kid. In retrospect, I worked my ass off for that time and privilege, but I still feel spoiled.

In eighth grade, before I got into my "proper riding outfit" phase (though it's lasted for the last 13 years, so is it really a "phase"?) - standing and holding the ponies of the lesson kids. Payson, "my" pony, is in the center.

My average weekday went a little like this:

6:30 am: roll out of bed, scarf some breakfast, finish whatever homework I told myself I would definitely wake up at 4:30 to do properly, leave for school at 7:20 to arrive late to 7:23 homeroom.

7:23 am to 2:15 pm: do homework for the next class in whatever class I was currently in.

2:30 pm: arrive at barn, change out of "school outfit" and into breeches and a polo (always a polo, always tucked in, always have a black leather or ribbon belt) - put riding boots on since I never remembered to bring barn shoes and was strictly forbidden from wearing "good shoes" at the barn.

2:40 pm: bring "my" pony Payson (a late teens pony that one of my trainers owned, who was sort of a particular ride and became my project somewhere in middle school) and whatever other ponies were needed for lessons down from the upper barn

3:00 pm: give all 35-40 horses in the main barn grain, a flake of hay, and top off water buckets.

3:30 pm: tack up a couple ponies with their lesson kids, help them get on with stirrups adjusted, then get on Payson and ride

4:15 pm: untack, help the next round of lesson kids get ready and on, ask if there are any others on my list to ride

4:30 pm: ride the 2-5 horses on my list (generally lesson horses that needed some schooling, sale horses that needed to get out but wouldn't be used in lessons, occasional rehabbing of a horse coming off an injury)

6:00 pm: check water buckets and refill, throw another round of hay, pick out stalls

6:45 pm: sweep the aisle, tack room, and cross ties. Put away tack that lesson kids left out, make sure all the halters are hung correctly, with lead ropes tucked over neatly. Depending on the time of year, make sure every horse had the right blankets on and that no one was left in an Irish knit.

7:00 pm: bring the upper barn ponies back up, feed the upper barn, refill the water trough, switch who was turned out for the "night shift", check blankets

7:30 pm: head home, inhale some dinner, take a procrastination shower, then try to do homework but probably fall asleep after spending several hours on social medias and horse shopping for horses I can't afford

At some point later into my teenage years, I was only actually working at the barn 1-2 days a week, which took the feeding/picking out stalls out of the equation and adding more horses to The List. I was in HEAVEN. My longest weekday list that I completed was 9 horses (admittedly, I believe one or two that day were "the lesson kid got on but it's kind of wild so can you get on and get it a little more tired so they can get back on?" kind of rides where I had no tacking/untacking time, which helped immensely). My parents paid for one lesson a week, but I was getting my own education riding a mix of troublemakers, schoolmasters, super fancy client-owned horses, and everything in between.

I remember vividly coming for my lesson, and Andrea said "do you want to ride a horse today, or do you want to ride A Thing?" and I excitedly said "A THING!" She put me on Dolcé, a small Welsh pony with an attitude. I remember my dad loving that pony because he said it was the first pony he saw that looked like it was put together right, like a horse but smaller. He said the other ponies weren't proportioned right, not like Dolcé. I got on, put my stirrups up five or six holes (which still put my feet just above his knee), and we promptly galloped at and tried to jump into the 6' tall round pen. After he decided, one stride out, that we wouldn't make that, he re-aimed for a 3'6" oxer, which might as well have been the same height as the round pen for how likely we were to clear it. I have no memory of how we managed to steer away from that, but the rest of our lesson was taught on a lunge line, then we practiced steering and stopping (at the walk) for a while. If you told me now that you want me to get on a micro pony who may or may not jump the largest obstacles he can find and refuse to steer or slow down, I'd tell you "thanks but most definitely no". When I was 13? HELL YEAH I'm getting on that pony, that sounds so fun!

Cherry (Emma age 10ish)

Payson (Emma age 20ish)

Schimmel (Emma age 22ish)

Revel (Emma age 18ish)

Maya (Emma age 24ish)

Prento (L-Emma age 18, R-Emma age 26)

Left column, top to bottom: Cherry (Emma age 10ish), Payson (Emma age 20), Revel (Emma age 18), Maya (Emma age 23). Right column, top to bottom: Schimmel (Emma age 22), Prento (L Emma age 18, R Emma age 26)

I had such a thorough education from my trainers, which gave me the foundation to learn more from each horse I had the privilege of sitting on. Cherry, a pony so fat she effectively didn't have any withers, taught me not to lean left or right (after I fell off because I was leaning and the saddle slipped under her and I fell off). Muffin taught me not to lean forward, because she'd simply stop moving when I did (and over her ears I would go). Laddy taught me that it's okay to go a little faster, and the difference between speed and being out of control. Kimichi taught me to remember that no matter how much you think you know your horse, a spook can come out of nowhere, so you'd better have your heels down deep and keep your balance even when you feel like you're fine to relax. Urban taught me how to use spurs, and what happens if you are rude or overuse your aids. Schimmel taught me how to wait to a fence and not rush the distance because I'm nervous about the fence. Wilma taught me to steer with my legs and body since she came to us only knowing how to neck rein.

I recently made a list of every horse I could remember riding in my life (excluding those vacation trail rides and at IEA horse shows; I'm terribly sorry to those lovely horses, but I don't remember a single name of any of them). I feel like I'm missing 10-15 names, but my total is 104 at the moment. ONE HUNDRED AND FOUR. Not 104 times that I've ridden in my lifetime, but 104 separate horses that I've ridden. On some very rough estimations on how many rides per week I had for each chunk of my life, I'm sitting around 12,000 different rides, approximately 360,000 minutes with my butt in a saddle (assuming I rode for an average of 30 minutes per horse, though I know I've definitely had some 2 hour rides and some 5 minute rides), 6,000 hours. I've heard you need to practice something for 10,000 hours before you're an expert, so it's a good thing I still have my amateur card. In a mere 8,000 more rides, I'll be ready to claim expert status. If I ride three times a week for the rest of my life, I'll achieve that in about 52 years.

Maya and I at Woodstock Equestrian Park last weekend.

Outside of riding skills, I learned time management, the ability to prioritize, how to take ownership for my mistakes and for mistakes that aren't my fault but ones I need to fix anyway, how to think on my feet when things get scary, how to step outside my comfort zone, how to ask for help when I need it, how to lift with my legs, how to communicate effectively with people of all age groups and backgrounds, how to maintain my composure, how to figure out the best person to befriend at a horse show (tie between in-gate guy for the ring you KNOW you'll be late for and secretary), how to troubleshoot problems with almost no information, how to be organized in the face of chaos, and so much more. My barn education might as well be my resume, and I don't know what sort of person I would be without it.

I am so grateful to have grown up barn-rat-spoiled, and to have gained so much while I thought I was just having fun at the barn. Even looking to the friendships I've kept over the years, it's almost exclusively barn friends that make it into the "lifelong friendship" category.

Left to right: Emma on Schimmel with Jordan on Tiny (2013), Emma on Winchester with Jordan on Tiny (2013), Kimichi and Emma (2010)

There's no point to this post, just a story I wanted to tell with some horsey photos to share. I guess if you want a lesson out of the story, it's 'let your kids be barn rats'. Encourage them to work at the barn for lessons, order them a pizza to the barn occasionally, and let them grow up to be part of the Crazy Horse People. They'll come home dirty and tired, but proud of their work and how full they are of tiny lessons they didn't realize they were learning.