Fledge

     After literally growing up on horses, about fifteen years ago I’d given up riding.  I’d had a bad wreck on a mare I loved, and it so terrified my horse-phobic husband that I re-homed the 3 mares my girls and I had loved and ridden happily on our hill overlooking the Spokane Valley.  

    Then, a charming horse-trader moved into the neighborhood.  I’d see him when I was out on walks and we’d chat about horses.  Seeing his herd brought me comfort as I went about my horse-less life, working as a school principal and going to grad school at night and on weekends.  Something must have clicked for my husband, because when “Bud” showed up at our house one April morning and told me he had “just the horse” for me, my husband and I  knew it was the right time at last.  There was a hole in my heart only a horse could fill, and my husband seemed to finally understand it.  So, I bought Beau, a lovely bay Arab gelding and resumed my horse life at last (this time with a helmet). But this is not Beau’s story. 

     In the way of many such folks, Bud had crossed too many trust and money lines with too many friends, and left the state, leaving four horses in the neighbor’s pasture with nothing to eat and winter coming.  I tracked him down by phone and offered to find homes for them.  He agreed (with relief, I suspect, as the next call would have been to the sheriff!).  Two of the horses—minis—went to Idaho, via my niece Laura.  One went to another neighbor.  I kept the fourth, a young, nearly black Arabian stallion (soon to be a gelding, a process he accepted with equanimity, making the vet clinic staff fall in love with him). I did not know his history…and Bud was vague on how he had acquired him.  But he looked like every picture I’d ever seen of the fine Polish Arab strain. (P.S., I’ve since had his DNA done, confirming his Arabian roots. I’ll never know his pedigree, but he doesn’t seem to care.) 

    As I led him home that October day, I pondered what name would fit.  Here he was.  Barely touched.  Thin and stunted.  Calling to his friends but otherwise behaving like a gentleman.  As we walked the mile to his new home, I remembered one of my favorite series of children’s books, “The Chronicles of Narnia”.  Those who know those books may remember the London cabby horse, “Strawberry”, who is magically transported to Narnia and given wings and a new name by the Lion Aslan.  “Fledge” it is, I thought, and he seemed to agree.

     Since then, my life with Fledge has been one of the greatest challenges and joys of my life.  Because of him, I’ve re-learned everything I thought I knew about horse training. I’ve immersed myself in “Natural Horsemanship” methods, attending clinics and reading dozens of books and watching hours of DVDs.  I’ve met such fine nationally known clinicians and authors as Mark Rashid, Josh Lyons, Brandi Lyons, and Buck Brannaman.  Local trainers Ann Kirk and Angela Tanner have helped me and Fledge develop the kind of relationship I’ve only ever had with one other horse, my teenage mare, Nahaj—a blood-red sorrel 3/4 Arab filly who could read my mind.  

     The road with Fledge has not been without its bumps.  His baseline personality is “I’ll do anything to please you.”  But, he was, I suspect, treated roughly before I got him. And as we all know, horses never forget!  In the beginning, every time I touched him, he startled with fear.  He still flinches at a first touch—even after all these years—but once he understands your hand is kind and soft, he relaxes.  Nevertheless, those fear memories have led to some spectacular spooks and bolts and I’ve come off him nearly a dozen times.  And, as Roy Rogers is said to have observed: “At my age, I no longer bounce, I splat!”   This has been true for me, so I’ve learned to take it slow and give him lots of chances to relax.  

    The pay-off to all this work is the splendid partner I now have.  We’ve been on countless lovely trail rides, the best being when I take him “home” to Sandpoint and ride the forest trails of my childhood with my sister Kirsten and brother Jim (on his elegant mule, Raquel), and other assorted family and friends.  We’ve camped.  In Idaho and Oregon.  We’ve been to clinics and met some wonderful friends.  We once rode up a trail so steep and rocky (The Big Eddie trail to Star Peak near in the Cabinet Range), I had to lead him back down.  He calmly and slowly picked his way over sharp rocks, keeping me safe.  Family grandchildren, including my own grandson Killian, have ridden him in the round pen. We’ve fulfilled one of my bucket list items, entering the walk/trot class at the “Spots of Fun” horse show in Sandpoint.  We even got a ribbon!

    This boy is as magic as his name.  He has changed my world in countless ways.  Every morning as he whinnies for his breakfast, I thank the Lord for bringing him into my life!  As the friends of the Fledge in the book say, “Further in and higher up!”