06/12/2024
A horse trainers heart:
Yesterday was bittersweet. I loaded a horse onto a trailer. It wasn’t even my own but I kissed that horse's nose, just like it was, and told him to behave himself. Not that he was going someplace bad. I actually didn't know where he'd end up. Do we ever? I told him to behave because any decent horseman or woman will respect that quality and treat that horse well. I don't know if he will get that respect. But I know he will behave. I put my heart into his manners and respect, I pray future owners appreciate that and it earns him a place in their heart.
Yesterday, I touched a horse for the last time. He had only lived a year. I stayed with him during his very first 24 hours. I put on his first halter, laughed at his attempts to stand. I watched him run with the yearlings, then I swayed in anguish as colic took his spirit and his life. So I kissed his neck and told him to go run and play, to the greener pastures in the sky.
Yesterday, I held a horse in the Winner's Circle. I smiled as we collected a check. A win photo for my wall. The world could see his success and I had helped him. It was just one day, a few minutes really, but one of our best runs and I was proud. So I patted his neck and said "good boy". It was a good day to love a horse.
Yesterday, I walked into the barn. I kiss a few muzzles but not everyone tolerates the nonsense of a late breakfast so I quickly get the grain. Their voices are music to my ears. My cares for the moment untraceable, no Facebook, no internet, just “us”. My heart is happy. I scoop grain.
Yesterday I waited, my whole heart hurting as you stood in the field with a broken leg. When the vet finally showed, he drove straight down to where you stood shaking and immediately started grabbing needles and pulling pink liquid. I held your head and told you that soon you wouldn't hurt anymore. I let go and then fell to my knees to lay across your neck. One final kiss as your soul gallops away and mine shatters.
There are pieces of my heart out there. When it's cold, I pray that you have enough hay to eat. I hope that someone cares enough to give you water and exercise and a pat on the neck. Are your feet trimmed? Did you get your spring shots? Do they know you don’t like nylon boots? Do they remember your supplements? Do they stretch your stiff stifle out before they spin you? Did they read the notes I sent home with you? Do they care like I care? I worry.
I still see you in my barn. I can still see you in my mind, your naughty snort at the blanket, your sigh when I brushed you, but every day when I walk past your stall, there is another horse there. The door revolves. My heart restores. Repeat.
I will give my best to him too. I owe you that. And the ones before you.
My name might not be on your horses papers but my heart is.
Most trainers don’t do this for the money, the glory, the saddles, the win pics or even the owners. We do it for the horses, the horses that hold our heart.
Your trainer,
Jen Bulger
*adapted and altered from an anonymous poem