How I Met Freya
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In a lifetime of horses, there's bound to be one that is 'the horse'. As much as I love my present horse, my Clydesdale cross mare, Freya will always hold a special place in my heart. I used to attend an auction with my sister quite frequently. A lot of the horses that went to the auction would end up on tractor trailers headed for meat processing plants. My sister, who has a keen eye for a good horse would often bring horses home, re-school them and find them good homes. It was on one trip to this auction that I first saw Freya.
The auction started early in the morning, which meant a very early start for us, having to drive about two hours to get there. About forty horses would be put through on any given morning, and the sale would be over by lunchtime or earlier. This day, sale ended early and we were just heading across the parking lot back to the truck, and the empty horse trailer, when a man came towards with a big bay mare in hand. He stopped us to ask if the sale was still going on. No, we told him, the sale was over.
He looked disappointed, then said, “well, I'll just take this horse in there and run it over the scales to see what they'll give me”. My sister liked the look of the horse, and felt it a shame that it would have no other chance to find a buyer but the meat buyers. She made him an offer. The man quickly agreed, and within minutes, she had snapped a lead shank on the mare's halter, and was loading her on the trailer.
After getting her home, my sister tried her out, and found her very easy going. The mare was quickly integrated into the lesson program, as camp week was rapidly approaching. The mare however, didn't take to group riding lessons well. She quickly became anxious if a rider bumped around on her inadvertently, or she would anticipate what would be asked of her next, and speed up or slow down on her own initiative, rather than wait for cues from her rider. As quiet as she was, being a lesson horse was clearly not for her.
We, around this time, had just purchased a small acreage, and with new fences and shelter up, I was anxious to have a horse of my own again. After the experience with the little white Arabian, I was looking for something quieter, especially since I wanted to be able to take my daughter out on trail rides. My sister suggested I try the mare. I headed out on trail and the big bay mare was a peach. Her only quirk was getting antsy when we went from a closed-in trail, into a large open field. She would rush forward, and had to be calmed a bit before she could relax. My guess is that her previous owner had ridden her slowly through the bush, but would blast across open fields when they got the chance. It didn't take long though, to break her of the habit.
Freya was a real companion. She was smart, but a worrier. She was wonderful when I took my daughter out on her pony, and my son would often accompany us on his small dirt bike. Her only bugaboo on trail was large rocks. I don't know what large white rocks meant to her, but she always had a good spook at them, and I never broke her of the habit. The day I lost Freya was one of the worst days of my life. After it happened, I asked a friend how long it took to get over losing a horse, they said, “oh, about ten years”. I haven't quite reached the ten year mark, but I suspect it's going to take a bit longer than that. |
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