Clearly, Not CLEAR!

For the most part machines behave predictably. Not so with horses. They organize themselves in herd hierarchies, the tiers of which are established by each individual’s moxie, willpower, and smarts. But herd order is not constant. Most horses, like most humans, are always looking for ways to be improve their lot. Woe to those of us who forget this!

It was a sunny afternoon in July that I first saw Clear. I had gone to Vinmar Farm to look at MMSC candidates. He stood out: Sixteen two, lanky, bay, balanced, a good walk. Shipped from a California track a mere week prior, he impressed me with his inherent poise. 

He came to the MMSC the next day. I noticed he had a few hives, which, within a half hour of munching on the hay in his stall, spread all over his neck and flanks. I made a mental note: fragile immune system--probably travel stress and change of environment. Stay vigilant with this one.

MMSC spa treatments began immediately. His teeth were leveled, his feet balanced, his frame adjusted, his acupuncture points stimulated. When we moved on to the horsenality/learning style part of the Horse Schooling Reschooling Program, Clear proved willing and level headed in the round pen. He excelled on the bomb-proofing course. Long lining, longeing, he breezed through those lessons. Under saddle, he was a superstar in the making. His ground covering gaits were as regular as a metronome. He was light in the bridle and naturally balanced. 

Every season I have one or two special MMSC candidates that I know from the onset will excel in competition. These horses command higher adoption donations which pay not only only for their own care and training but also for the care and training of those MMSC candidates with less scope. Clear was one of those rare special ones.  As soon as we posted his first video, inquiries and requests for appointments to try him poured in.  

Then, about two months into his training, he got into a paddock tussle with Desert Wheat which resulted in an oozing wound on his left shoulder and two mysterious symmetrically placed bumps on the bridge of his nose. Our conjecture: Clear had been nibbling the greener grass on the other side of the fence when DW ambushed him. Yanking back his head abruptly,  Clear must have flailed the bridge of his nose on the fence-board.  Time out!- All training was put on hold until his shoulder healed. We had the lumps x-rayed, there was a bit of fluid, but nothing serious, bone bruises that would recede over time.

Two weeks later when we resumed training, Clear seemed no worse for the wear-- until we cantered him, and that’s when we heard his breathing. Between 5% and 8% of all racehorses suffer from partially paralyzed larynxes. That’s when one of the two cartilage flaps that comprise the voice box becomes somewhat or fully impaired and fails to retract properly. As a result, the horse’s air flow is restricted, which, depending upon the demands placed upon a horse, can diminish athletic performance.

But it was a hot day. Maybe Clear had lost more condition than we thought during his convalescence? We checked his nostrils: No discharge. We took his temperature. Normal. We decided to work him earlier in the day when it was cooler next time. We did that, and heard nothing...until he picked up the canter, and there it was again--not heavy, but not normal either, a moderate, steady huffing. Yet when we brought him down to a trot, the noise immediately stopped and his respiratory rate was normal.

 Both Dr. Marmion and Dr. Baker from the Woodford Equine Hospital examined Clear: No infection apparent in the guttural pouches, No foul smelling odor from  an infected tooth. No elevated white blood cells count.  How about eosinophils which can indicate allergic reactions? After all, he couldn’t eat hay. Maybe his immune system was compromised? None. The only thing that Dr.s Baker and Marmion could find was a partially paralyzed larynx. I checked with Clear’s former owner. Did he have a history of being a “roarer” as this condition is commonly called?  Apparently not. Could it have happened from the blow to his nose? No, according to Dr. Baker. The condition was probably there when he was at the track but was so mild, no one picked up on it.

It took a while to get all these questions answered and test results back. While we waited for answers, I cut Clear’s training sessions back in length and difficulty. But once I had a definitive diagnosis, I called Clear’s admirers back. Most were deterred by the news. Not Maddie H from South Carolina, she wanted to come try him anyway.

She arrived with her parents the next week, trailer in tow. We all ride slightly differently so it was no surprise that Maddy was having a bit of trouble getting through to Clear when she first got on. He did not want to step on the bridges.  He was behind the leg and above the bit.  So I hopped on to show her how we ride at the MMSC. Oh my goodness! What  metamorphisis had occured since I last rode him? Once the perfect gentleman, now a know-it-all teenager!  Despite his breathing issues (Maddy had had a roarer before and Clear, in comparison, was hardly afflicted) and his temporary regressive behavior, Maddy wanted to adopt him. 

“I hope he loads easily!,” said Maddie’s mother. 

“Oh, he will,” I said cheerfully. “Today's behavior was so unusual.  He's an easy going, willing horse. ”  

Famous last words! Horses have a way of making liars out of people, and Clear was no exception. He had no intention of getting on that trailer. No coaxing, lip chains, encouragement from brooms, butt ropes or feed buckets convinced him.  

An hour into our efforts, a large Creech van pulled up to the MMSC to haul another horse, Studio Time, to his new home in Georgia. Seeing our troubles, the driver of the rig, an older black racetracker named Danny with a parched face and taut body reminiscent of the Utah range--spartan, tough, and starkly beautiful-- offered to help.

Danny (center) and his boys  to the rescue to help load Clear!
( Doug-From-Down-the Road to come!)

“Lemme get my boys. And I’ll call in Doug-From-Down-The-Road,” he said.

Danny and his crew tried all the methods that we had, all equally unsuccessfully. Not even tranquilizers eased Clear’s recalcitrance. Doug-From-Down-The-Road,  a manly hulk of massive muscle and multiple tattoos, decreed it was time to lift Clear on.

He locked hands with his buddies and together they formed a human sinew around Clear’s buttocks.

“Push!” Doug-From-Down-The-Road bellowed. 

Clear pushed back.

“Come on boys!  PUSH!!!”

Clear leaned back on them, readjusted his footing and simply sat down. And he STAYED sitting down, completely contented like Ferdinand the Bull in that wonderful children's book.

 (Check out the story if you don't know it!  It's a classic!  

http://www.amazon.com/The-Story-Ferdinand-Munro-Leaf/dp/044845694X/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1384899769&sr=8-1&keywords=ferdinand+the+bull)

Over the years, I have distilled what I have learned about horses to five principles: Safety, Respect, Attitude, Heed, and Celebration.  At that moment, it occurred to me that I  was in violation of not one, but all five of my own principles.

“Gentlemen, let’s stop!”

“But we could lift him on!  We’ve never not gotten a horse on before!” 

“I’m sure you could. I am sure that is true. But he might throw a fit on the trailer and get hurt. I really appreciate your help.  Thank you. But we need to change plans.” 

I walked over to Maddie whose face was tear-streaked and pale, and gave her a hug.

“Maddie, This is disappointing. But, there are always silver linings. We probably could hoist him on.  But I would worry about his safety on the long trip.  More important still, I can see that during his convalescence, Clear has learned the world operates on his terms. I can’t let him go to you with that idea. Come back in a week.  He will have a new perspective.  And he will load!”

Maddy nodded and got back in the truck with her parents for the long trek home.

That was not the ending to the day that I had envisioned.  When everyone had left, I sat alone in my office, looking out at the inky silhouettes of horses against a darkening horizon. I was weary and disappointed in myself for dropping the ball. Horses are always learning something. I know that! And  they are always trying to improve their standing in the herd! I know that.  And my wonderful, hard working interns are riders, not trainers. I know that! They couldn’t realize the subtle changes occurring with every ride in Clear’s perspective on life and his relationship vis a vis humans. He was such a simple horse to ride when he first came that when my interns reported that all went well after each workout, I focused on other MMSC business. But I know better! Woe is me! As if horses didn’t try to improve their herd standing.  As if horses were machines....Clearly, not CLEAR!

Cheery (there are always silver linings!) bye,

Susanna 

Horse Centered

Desert Wheat and the Maker's Mark Secretariat Center

The day was planned: Saturday. No adopters scheduled to look at horses. Lori, the office manager,  was off. Catherine, the barn manager,  was out of town. Tony, the farm manager, was overseeing a much needed barn cleanup with interns and volunteers. I really love the MMSC, but it is nice to get off campus every now and then and see what the rest of the world is doing. Given how quiet things were going to be, I planned to give myself a treat. I intended to stop in at the MMSC, check horses, emails, phone messages, applaud Tony’s crew, and then head to the first of two events I was really looking forward to.

The International Equine Alliance Conference http://equinewelfarealliance.org was being held at the Alltech Arena at the Horse Park, a stone’s through from the MMSC’s front entrance. The schedule was loaded with interesting topics and speakers covering the myriad aspects of horse rescue, retirement and rehoming from OTTBs, to unwanted horses to feral herds. There were colleagues attending whom I had not seen in a while and others I was excited to meet.

In the afternoon I planned to wrest myself away to audit a clinic given by Buck Branaman http://www.brannaman.com at nearby Masterson Station. There are many excellent horse whisperers out there and to that I say“Amen!” Nobody knows it all and we all have something to learn about horses, people, and oneself every day along the way of one’s horseman’s journey. That’s why I started the Bucephalus Training Library at the MMSC which houses works about training by masters down through the ages from Kikkuli to Parelli and then some. That said, I have an especially deep seated admiration of and appreciation for Buck Brannaman. He's all about horses: Day after day, year after year, on the road, clinic to clinic,  helping one horse at time. No marketing hoopla.  What he does, what he says, how he acts, how he trains, how he lives is clearly Horse Centered. He walks the talk and that resonates with me. But I have never had the pleasure or privilege of seeing him at work in person. 

Until today. 

I live an hour away from the Kentucky Horse Park, and I spend the time to and fro on the phone with a list of calls I need to make and return. It’s the only place that I have no interruptions.

“I am interested in several of your horses,” Joan from Pittsburg explained when I reached her that morning. “I am in Lexington for the Buck Brannaman clinic and I wondered if I could swing by the MMSC briefly this morning to take a quick look at them. If I see anything I like, I will be back on another weekend to try them.

Pittsburgh is about a seven hour drive.  It made sense. 

“Sure,” I told her. “Come on!”

 I’d be just a tad late to the International Equine Alliance meeting.

Joan, a compact, fifty-something, strawberry blonde arrived shortly after I did and presented me with a list of MMSC horses she had seen on the web. Where had they come from?  Where did they want to do in their next career? What were their strengths? Their weaknesses? Where they right brained? Left brained? Introverts? Extroverts?
“Let’s go out in the fields to meet them,” I told her. 

Clear, Studio Time and Xin Xu Lin

We all know how parents of newborns are quick to talk about their babies, trumped only by grandparents, all of whom have the brightest, most beautiful, most unique grand children ever to grace the Earth. But neither group have the same discursive powers as horse crazy women.

Mr. Segretto and Electromagnetic

After walking in every paddock, snuffling on every horse, talking about its horsenality, strengths and weakness, as well as having shared stories of other horses that we knew or have known, we were back at the office, an hour and forty
five minutes later. Joan thanked me and drove back to the Branaman Clinic. 

I glimpsed at my watch. There was still a bit of time to duck into the International Equine Alliance Conference. 

“Susanna, while you were in the paddocks, this couple stopped in looking for a horse,” said Tony as he introduced me to Richard and Julie. 

ROUND TWO!

 I smiled at them. “Tell me a little about what you are looking for?" They had some very specific requests, and I didn’t think I had anything that would adequately felt would meet their needs. So only a twenty minute delay. No big deal.

I was following them out the door when Lara Knight who used to trek up from Nashville in 2011 and 2012 as much as she could to work with our horses, rode up on Rob’s Rock, the off track Thoroughbred I had found for her to show in the Retired Racehorse Retraining Project.  http://www.retiredracehorsetraining.org

What a dazzling pair!  Lara with her broad smile, her lithe figure and impeccable seat and Rob’s Rock, whom she renamed Ari, in all of his 17 hand bay, quivering glory. I had seen him in a field a few months before. He had not been particularly successful on the track.  His owner no longer could pay the board bills. Ari looked a bit rough butI could tell he was somebody. There are many things I am not good at, but I do know I have an eye for a nice horse. It was clear as day: Ari was a magnificent horse.

Lara Knight and Rob's Rock aka "Ari"  at the Retired Racehorse Retraining Project at Pimlico, MD, Oct. 5-6

I just wasn’t prepared for how magnificent he would become in the short three months since I had first seen him. Under Lara’s care and training, he was transformed, “Cinder-fella,” like  from the soot pile to the beau of the ball!  

“I’m at the Horse Park schooling,” Lara told me.  “I thought you’d want to see how Ari’s doing, so I rode over.” 

 You bet I wanted to see! And to hear about every phase of his metamorphosis.

Even when we were finished with our “brief chat,” and Lara and Ari trotted down the MMSC avenue and out the gate, I watched them until I lost sight of them. I was mesmerized.  And humbled. And grateful. What a great privilege it is to have a job like mine! Matching up great horses with great people.

Looking at my watch I saw that I had missed my window of opportunity to go to the conference. I stepped back in the office to grab some of the invitations to our upcoming Sips N Saddles party (October 25--email mmsecretariatcenter@gmail.com if you would like a ticket) to drop in the mail on my way to the Branaman clinic when I heard the front door open and someone call, “Susanna?  Is Susanna here? It’s Maureen, from last year? Remember me?”

I stepped into the foyer. There were two women standing there.  Maureen From Last Year who, I remembered, had accompanied Andrea from New York to look a horse named Milo, which Andrea ending up adopting. And, another Maureen, who in my mind became Maureen From This Year. 

ROUND THREE!

“We are in town for this International Equine Alliance Conference going on at the Horse Park. Did you know about it?,” said Maureen From Last Year. “We were tired of sitting, so I suggested that we come visit you.”

 “I am glad to see you again. And, yes, I did know about the conference. How is Milo???’

You can guess where this is going...to the paddocks, of course. The Maureens met all of the MMSC horses and lingered with them, and loved on them, and listened to all I said about them and shared stories about their horses, and the horses they had known.

Dandy's Noble and Syn No More

My phone buzzed. “I am sitting in the bleachers on the stable side at the Brannaman clinic if you come this way and would like to sit with me,” Joan from Pittsburg texted.

“Let’s head back up to the office shall we?”  

We looked up at the gate and saw a young man standing there.

“I am looking for an event horse,” said he. “I was wondering what you had here.”

Ah me.  It didn’t look like I’d be getting to the Branaman clinic any time soon.

By the time round four was over and all had trundled off for the day, it was ten minutes to five. I had not even opened my email.  Tony stepped in on his way out.  

"I thought you were going somewhere today," he said.

"I thought so too! How did the barn clean up go?"

We chatted for a bit about that, and then he  turned to go.  “Don’t stay too late!,” he admonished.

 “Just have to check phone messages and answer my emails and then I will be on my way,” I told him.

At 6:30, I turned off the computer and the lights, locked up, and headed to the barn to see the results of the Great Barn Cleanup. Dazzling, predictably. Tony would settle for nothing less.

The barn is my last stop every night before I leave. I want to make sure the feed and tack rooms are secure; that the horses staying in overnight are watered and hayed, that barn cats Sam and Jaspar are on patrol. I stand in the aisle and take it all in: The sights of a clean swept floor. The smell of Pine Sol. The sound of horses methodically munching their hay.It’s a Zen moment for me. I breath in. Breath out. And just be.

Sure, it would have been nice to have gone to the conference and the clinic. I would have seen people.  I would have learned things. But life is what happens when you have made other plans. And standing there quietly in the barn, letting impressions of the past ten hours wash over me, I had to say, it had been a truly wonderful horse centered day. And I was happy with that.

Cheery bye,             
Susanna

XIN XU LIN (Wondertross/Barbiera) 

“I have a horse I’d like to show you,” said Johnny Burke, Darley America’s Keeneland trainer as we walked down his immaculately kept shedrow. 

“He was Horse of the Year in 2010 in Brazil. He won both the Grande Premio Ipiranga (Sao Paulo 2,000 Guineas) and the Derby Paulista (Sao Paulo Derby), as well as the most prestigious race in South America, the Gran Premio Carlos Pellegrini which is run on the turf in Argentina. Godolphin Racing, our racing operation, had really high hopes for him when he was purchased in 2011. Sadly it hasn’t worked out. He’s a special horse and deserves a special home. We know that the Secretariat Center can find him that.”

God bless Godolphin Racing, Darley and Sheik Mohammed!  Honoring a horse’s contribution as is. Not pushing it past its limits or dropping it down in class, putting the horse’s best interest first, and taking their losses quietly and with dignity. That’s horsemanship. And class.

“What’s his name?, “ I asked.

“XIN-XU-LIN. It’s Chinese.”

“What does it mean?”

“No idea,” said Johnny. “Really Great Racehorse?” he ventured, eyes twinkling.

“No doubt!, “ I agreed stepping in the stall to evaluate this Horse of the Year with the mystery name. 

Xin Xu Lin didn’t look special. He was a slight 16 hands, light in bone with offset knees and boxy upright hooves. Ebony bay, but no chrome. Wide forehead, shrewd, piercing gaze. I could tell he was sizing me up, and that I fell short. I asked Johnny if I could see him move. Xin Xu came out of his stall, dancing all over his handler. And when he jogged, he was racehorse tight, mincing  in front and tippy toeing behind. 

Clearly he was really smart, proud, and he knew he was somebody. I was intrigued by him and I wanted to show my appreciation of Darley’s responsible  handling of this horse and their faith in the MMSC. I knew he wasn’t going to be an “easy flip,” but it promised to be an interesting journey and an honor to work with him. “Send him to the MMSC, Johnny,” I said.

Xin Xu arrived at the MMSC in late April, bringing along with him a“Don’t mess with me!” attitude. Knowing that prior to turning him out for the first time we administered a hefty pharmaceutical cocktail, one that would have rendered Goliath weak-kneed. But not Xin Xu! He took  a few wobbly steps, lifted his head, and EXPLODED!  

Wow! Talk about fierce drive and formidable will. I watched him blast around that paddock seemingly ad infinitum and thought soberly: “Figuring out who this horse is and what he wants to do other than racing is going to be a challenge!”

So I decided to start simply: What did his name mean? I consulted with my nephew, Sam, who has lived in China and is fluent in Mandarin.

“There are many different meanings for each sound, Aunt Susanna.  So without seeing the actual Chinese symbols, it is impossible to know. It’s like trying to guess someone’s name based on their initials.”

So I googled “Xin” (it could mean “new,” “trust” or “mail”), “Xu” (a boy’s name, or  “brilliant rising sun”) and “Lin” (a Chinese surname.) Combined, the words didn’t make sense. I looked for emperors,  warriors, or poets  with that name. Nothing. Not even any Xin Xu Lins in the cyber White Pages.

I put that mystery on hold and went to work on the riddle of Xin’s Xu’s horsenality.  He was introverted, analytical and had a low opinion of humans. Not that he was evil or vindictive. Just arrogant and disinterested.  He did everything we asked: Natural horsemanship, trail riding, dressage, jumping. He just did it without expression, joy, or any exertion beyond the bare minimum. (We even asked him to try his "hoof" at painting to see if he had any unexpressed artistry!  But he was lukewarm about that too.)

Xin Xu Lin original
(see the blue jockey helmet and head in the center?)

Occasionally, he just closed up shop, and left the scene mentally. And that’s when the firm but fair discussions would begin. Given Xin’s Xu’s strong will, those discussions could be lengthy, but never heated. Just making the correct decision satisfying and the wrong one annoying. 

To combat his aloofness, I upped the TLC offensive: grooming, treats, even spontaneous visits with him at liberty in the paddock. Crabby about being touched, he did, in time, show that he had sweet spots--gentle finger nail scratches on his muzzle, soft palm stroking on the upper part of his neck, a circular fingertip rub on his forehead. He was a bit indifferent about treats, but his hot mash at lunch did elicit appreciation--although not undying gratitude. And I do think he liked the visits in the paddock.

 Despite the progress that I could see in his softening expression, he was still uninspired performer in the arena and several months into his reschooling, I still couldn’t figure out how get to his inner self and joy. 

It was in reading the articles written in Brazilian and Argentinian turf journals that I found some clues. Xin Xu Lin was the homebred of consummate Brazilian horseman, Oscar Faria Pacheco Borges. Borges served as the president of ABCPCC--the Brazilian equivalent of our TOBA or Thoroughbred Owners and Breeders Association. He was the director of the Jockey Club of São Paulo. He had a breeding farm, the Haras Pirassununga, with a band of about twenty broodmares. When he died in March of 2011, his obituary hailed him as a champion of racing and stated that “the national turf world went into mourning.” Xin Xu Lin was his once in a lifetime dream horse.

Xin Xu was more than a homebred darling, though. He was a superstar to racing enthusiasts. Think how Zenyatta electrified a crowd when she came strutting out on the track.  Xin Xu Lin was the same: People clapped and screamed their adulation. It instilled this proud, competitive little horse with the will to win--and win he did--wire to wire--reaching down deeper within himself when challenged, pulling ahead. He raced for his fans. 

Which gave me an idea. On our next training session, all available Team MMSC two leggeds and the four legged Tank (who is an excellent herd dog with a clarion bark) were called to the Hitchcock pen.  

“Chant his name and clap,” I told everyone as I turned him loose.  I wondered if he would associate this narrow oval with the track?

“XIN XU! XIN XU LIN!”

 He picked up his head, arched his neck, and carefully trotted over the ground poles.

 “XIN XU! XIN XU LIN!”

He popped over the cross rails, and upon landing flung his neck around proudly, Black Stallion-like, in front of Lori, who was snapping pictures of him.

“XIN XU! XIN XU LIN!”

He soared over the log with an impressive bascule and lift of his forearms. 

We roared with cheers!!!

And he was off, arching his neck, reaching out with lovely measured canter strides, each leap in lovelier form than the next. He had a crowd to please!

From this point on, I knew that there is nothing that this horse can’t do when he finds the right person. It’s going to have to be someone who deeply respects him, meets him half way, and who, by loving his big proud heart, inspires him. That lucky person will get not only a really great racehorse, but A REALLY GREAT HORSE. PERIOD. Johnny was right. Xin Xu Lin is special and deserves a special home. 

As for the mystery of his name, with a bit more sleuthing that, too, became clear. In an interview, Borges’ two sons explained that their family has a tradition of naming all foals born in a certain year with the same letter. Xin Xu was born in  the year X which limited choices. So they decided to pay tribute to a favorite Argentinian dish, chinchulin and swapped the Chs with Xs.  Apparently, chinchulin is a “dreamy” tasting barbecue made 

with the upper portion of the  small intestine of a cow.

“And that is how we got,  Xin Xu Lin,” they said, “The Dream Horse.”

Cheery bye,

Susanna

* If you would like to be the proud owner of this Xin Xu Lin original, please contact us at mmsecretariatcenter@gmail.com

Ernest Effort

I told you in the early part of the year, that PURPOSE is a pesky concept for me. Jack Russell-like, the “why?”of all things yaps in my brain, most especially “the why are we here?” which invariably narrows down to the “why am I here?”

The answer is always the same: To be of service to something greater than myself.  Simple. Yes. Grandiose. Certainly. 

Trouble is: life is daily. It is easy to lose track of simplicity when the items on the “to do list” exceed the hours in the day or to appreciate the Zen magnificence of the “chop wood/carry water”phenomenon or in my case the barn chores/office slog in the earnest effort of running the MMSC.

 And then you get an adoption application with an addendum like this:

To those of the MMSC:

A horse was responsible for ending a belief. No one can explain the infatuation that many little girls have with horses, but I was one of them. My bedroom was filled with books about horses: Black Beauty, Black Stallion, Misty of Chincoteague. I had the Breyer horse figures placed throughout, and on my wall, a poster of the famous Secretariat. Every birthday, every Christmas, I asked for the same gift--a horse. I knew the chance of a birthday horse was slim since it would have to be given by my parents, but Christmas, certainly, there was hope for a horse at Christmas. Surely I was a good girl and Santa would bring me the only present on my list. Year after year, dolls, bikes, games, but no horse were under the tree. This ended my belief in Santa. But it did not end my belief in the dream of owning a horse.

The little girl grew up, but the dream for a horse never faltered.  It only got pushed to the far corners as life’s demands took precedent--college, career, marriage and children. The dream would have to wait...

The letter went on to explain after years of waiting, grown children and growing grandchildren that Susan O., the writer, had taken up riding lessons, and had at long last the time and the finances for horse ownership. 

“It should be understood, “ Susan wrote, “that this will be my first and only horse. We will age gracefully together, appreciating each other’s idiosyncrasies and short comings, endearing us even more to each other.  I appreciate this opportunity to possibly fulfill my dream of one of your special horses. Thank you.”

When I read this letter, the Jack Russell in me went bonkers! Fulfill a dream!?  Purpose!? We’re on it!

When Susan and her trainer, Lisa, came to the MMSC to look at horses after she was unanimously approved (“She certainly deserves this chance to own a horse!,” one of the Approval Committee members wrote on Susan’s application), we carefully reviewed together her level of riding, horsemanship, goals and preferences.  I suggested two geldings, both very sane and forgiving, one somewhat older.

“I am sort of partial to mares,” Susan said.

 Mares?!  Oh no!  Not a good choice for someone starting up riding in her September years. Granted Susan was lithe and fit, but I know only too well that after 40, once doesn’t bounce back as well when the law of gravity gets the upper hand.

“I only have one at the MMSC,” I responded.  “She just came in and she raced five days ago. We haven’t done anything with her yet. Best to look at the geldings.”

“Could I just see her?”

“Sure,” I said, reluctantly, sliding open the door of the gray filly’s stall. “Her name is Earnest Effort. We’ve nicknamed her “Effie.” She’s four years old, has had a few starts, and never finished in the money. She is sound and her owner did the super responsible thing of retiring her before she broke down.”

“She’s beeeeaaauuutiful!,” said Susan quietly as she tentatively stepped beside me in the stall.

You can guess where this is going. Yes, Susan  watched both the geldings. She rode one, Xin Xu Lin, as steady a horse as can be.  Her mind said yes to him.  But her heart?  

“Do you want to watch Effie go?” I heard myself ask. (What was I thinking! No groundwork, bombproofing, or long-lining first?) 

You know the answer.  

We tacked Effie up. I figured she had been ridden less than a week ago, had been turned out 24/7  for three days, was level headed, and had finished at the end of the pack in all her races. Besides she had a sweet face and a generous eye.

Stiff and a little tense, but kind and willing, Effie walked, trotted, and cantered both directions. She even stepped over the tarp, bridges and cavalletti first time out.

“Wow!,” said Susan’s trainer, “she’s lovely.  She’ll go fast.”

“Yes, she will,” I agreed. “She’s special.”

  

I looked over at Susan.  She was staring at Effie.  Her eyes were big with wonder and yearning...

“Do you want to ride her?” I heard myself asking.  (OMG!  My head said. But my heart smiled.)

Susan on Effie with trainer, Lisa

Speechless, she nodded a vociferous YES!  

I turned to Lisa. “You ok with that? If she stays on a lunge?” 

 Lisa looked at Susan and then back at me. 

She nodded.

“Keep her safe, sista,” I said and I handed her the rope.

Lisa smiled.

Although Effie had a tentative rider on her back, she never put a foot out of place.  She was so good, Lisa unhooked the rope and Susan rode her solo.  

When Susan dismounted, I suggested she put the reins over the Effie’s neck to test the “join up” of their partnership at liberty. Effie followed Susan everywhere in BFF-”best friends forever” step. The mare’s choice was clear.

Susan’s was too, but I had to slow down the romance.

“It’s clear to me that your head knows which horse is best for you, but your heart has made a different decision,” I told Susan. “If you were not planning to board with Lisa and if she weren’t such an experienced horsewoman with expertise with Thoroughbreds, I could not in good conscience let you go with a horse so recently off the track.  But if you agree to let Lisa take over this horse’s let down and retraining, then I am ok with your taking the filly. The gelding is the better horse for you today. But I believe Effie will be that horse for you in 60 to 90 days, maybe a bit longer. My suggestion is that you go to a great little truck stop nearby for lunch and discuss the pros and cons of each choice. And, by all means, have a piece of the homemade chocolate peanutbutter pie. It will give you the necessary endorphin rush to make up your mind. ”

Needless to say, when they came back, the decision was stamped all over Susan’s face.  She glowed. She radiated. She was that little girl at Christmas who had just received her heart’s desire from Santa Claus.

I had made an earnest effort to persuade her to take the more seasoned horse. But my purpose is not about forcing choices on people. My purpose is to present the options that I have available and then let go. Susan found the answer to her lifelong dream in Effie. Helping her fulfill that dream was an exquisite privilege for which I am supremely grateful.

Besides, although it probably made more sense to steer her towards the gelding, we all have more neurotransmitters in our guts than in our brains. Therefore it makes sense to trust our intuitions.  If you remember anything from this blog, let it be this: LOGIC SHOULD ALWAYS BE ON TAP, NOT ON TOP!

Cheery bye!

Susanna

Synergy

SYNERGY is a ubiquitous phenomenon from physics to chemistry, herds to birds, cliques to corporations. It’s from the Greek “synergos,” translated as “working together,” but the concept is bigger than that: It means working BEYOND, i.e. “The whole is greater than the sum of its parts.” (Thank you, Aristotle! )

I got the concept of synergy at eleven. As I told you in a January blog “Mise-en-scene,” part of my childhood was spent in Paris, France. My favorite place in the city was the Sainte Chapelle, an architectural masterpiece built by Louis IX in the thirteenth century to house the purported relics of the Passion--part of the Crown of Thorns and a piece of Christ’s cross. Only 34 feet wide and 67 feet long, its glorious stained glass windows rise 50 feet in the air creating solid walls of glass. I was awestruck not only by the architectural phenomenon but also by the effort that went into creating every image, one piece of glass at a time. I liked sitting along the sides of the chapel, watching sun pour through the windows creating patchwork carpets on the massive stone block floors. It was like being in God’s jewel box.

To be successful, a team needs to be synergistic. It has taken a while to lay the foundation for such a team at the MMSC (and many thanks to all of you who have helped along the way). Finally after six years, we have built a solid team that works together, each bringing unique strengths (or colors!) to our mission.

You have already met, Catherine Flowers (Cat People and The Three Gs, andPromise), Barn Manager. She came to the MMSC in 2012 first as a volunteer, then for an internship, then...for another internship! She graduated this May Summa Cum Laude from Asbury University in Wilmore, Kentucky, and applied for the MMSC barn manager position. I had numerous applications for the job. The choice was a tough one. While Catherine had fewer technical horsemanship skills than some of the applicants, she had earned my deepest respect with her ceaseless (pay-less!)dedication in all that she did for the MMSC. I know first hand the toll of the long days and hours. She always showed up, on time, professional, even tempered, and positive. Her loyalty and honesty, smarts, work ethic and passion outweighed any lack of riding technique. That can be acquired. In June, Catherine came on as Barn Manager, and every day, I am grateful for having made this decision.

When I first became Director in 2008, all bills were paid through the headquarters office in New York.  To get a better understanding of what was going where, I bought a Quickbooks program along with the oh, so necessary, Quickbooks for Dummies and set up my own records. I learned a lot, most importantly that bookkeeping is detail oriented and there is lots of room for error. When we became our own 501(c)3 in 2012, I knew I didn’t have the skill sets to be keeper of the REAL numbers.

MA + 3 (Joseph, Anna, and Conner, l to r)

Enter Marialyce Gradek,an experienced book keeper for non profits, with a devilish sense of humor and ten year old triplets. Talk about a colorful character! I look forward to MA’s (for that is what I call her)  once a week appearances at the MMSC very much.

Lori, Jasper and Sam

MA’s big sister, Lori Tobin, Office Manager, came on board in the summer of 2012. A lawyer by profession, she relocated from DC to Lexington in 2008 to be closer to her family, and started teaching med tech law classes. For almost a year, she donated her time in the MMSC office. Lori has many assets, the greatest of which is her OCD attention to detail which she uses to get everything in order from tattoo numbers to pedigrees, applications to contracts, phone calls to appointments. Lori keeps track of them all. Most importantly, Lori keeps me on track. That is no small task as anyone who knows me well would attest! I have a proclivity to travel at high speeds in multiple directions at once. Thank goodness, I got the funds together this spring to hire her. She keeps the whole place together. 

Tony Yanek, Farm Manager, is my exquisite tiger. Reserved, moody, perfectionistic, he prowls the premises, headphones over his ears, tuned out to the world, but not missing anything, keeping the terrain beautiful, watching over every horse, piece of equipment, fence board and tree. He comes and goes tending to his own work. He sputters and scowls when anyone (including Catherine and me) leave anything out in the elements or out of place in the barn. Although he is truly a pussycat, Tony has terrified many an intern in the three years  he has worked for me on and off, as a contract laborer until I could afford to hire him full time. Tony is also terrific at Natural Horsemanship. He’s observant, quick, and strong with that rare combination of quiet confidence and compassionate leadership. Fillies, in particular love him. Tony's shadow is named Tank. He is the only dog allowed full-time on campus. That’s because Tony has trained him to perfection. He is obedient, unobtrusive, and an excellent watch and working dog.  He also is a playmate for barn cats Sam and Jasper, who,when not on pest patrol, stalk him. Then there’s Callie, a feral female that shadows the boys. She’s quite wild still, but as soon as we can lay secure hands on her, she has an appointment with the Humane Society for “alterations.”  Then, she, too, will be welcome as  a part of the synergistic MMSC team.

So back to the idea of the whole being more of the sum of its parts. In my travels throughout France, I saw churches and cathedrals with windows damaged or obliterated in war. It saddened me. Having seen the Sainte Chapelle. I knew that every piece of glass, no matter what size or color was essential to the telling of the story. 

My screen saver at work is a constant reminder of that. It's an image of just one of the 1,134 scenes in the Sainte Chapelle. I want the team of warriors and the white horse to make me mindful of and grateful for every individual who helps the MMSC on its crusade for Thoroughbred Aftercare. It also reminds me that the story can only be seen when graced from light on high.

                       
     Cheery bye!  
               Susanna