ifatfirst

If At First You Don't Succeed...

by Kathleen Florio

I have adored Haflingers ever since I got a part time job shoveling the manure of Mike & Ilene Keatley’s pony farm. I have adored horses even longer although this childhood passion was never quite encouraged while I was growing up. Mine was not a horse family and everybody assumed that someday this dream about horses would be left safely in the dust of childhood memory as the responsibilities of maturity would, of course, take over. They were wrong.

I own horses despite everything.

I got involved with horses through working as a groom to many different stables, caring for anything from racehorses, to minis, to park horses, to show horses. The Haflingers made the biggest impression on me. With their looks and charming nature how could anyone not fall under their spell?

For years I dreamed of owning a little flaxen haired Haflinger while my bombproof quarter horse trained me to ride and showed me the ropes of horse ownership. My first husband came and went, unable to stand the competition of my horse affliction. I chose better next time. My hubby now suffers from the same addiction as I do. And still I dreamed of Haflingers. The difference was now I had support in this regard.

I finally purchased my first Haflinger, my dream horse, as a yearling filly at a sale. Did I say dream horse? Well, I was wrong. We were not a match. She had the mindset of a lead mare. I discovered that, while I was surrounded by knowledgeable horse people all willing to help, a horse with a lead mare mentality was not what I needed to bond with. We were fine on the ground, just fine not great.

My first trail ride on her was disastrous! I don’t remember passing out on her back when she took off at a gallop for the barn. I do remember spending the next day in the hospital getting ex-rayed and MRIed to make sure my spine still articulated the way nature intended and my skull was still in one piece.

Haflingers are still horses after all, not fantasy creatures!

I did ride her several times after the wipe out. I wasn’t afraid to get back on her. But the bond that I had hoped for was shattered. I was heartbroken and my confidence was crushed. Everyone else seemed to have no trouble with her at all. Everyone else liked her. Everyone else could handle her.

Everyone else but me.

It seemed the only kind of horse I belonged riding were plugs.

I sent her down the road and told myself it was all my fault.

I tried half heartedly to look for another one, all the while wondering if I should just get out of horses altogether. They were very expensive to board and I never made a heap of money at any of my animal related jobs. And I was getting older. Body parts were starting to creak and pop and soon I knew they would need expensive medical maintenance. If I didn’t buy another horse maybe I could actually have a savings account instead of always bleeding money out into a large animal I had pay and pay and pay for.

Now I live in prime fox hunting and eventing country. I know of lots of horse people. But not many Haflingers breeders are in my area. Except for the Amish.

Everyone ( the pleasure horse people that is ) told me not to go to the Amish.

I didn’t listen. They know horses. They know Haflingers. They can pick ‘em. I obviously couldn’t.

I spoke to an Amish man who said he was going to a sale out in the Midwest . He asked what I was looking for and said that if he found something of that description, he’d bring it back. He could always move it on if I wasn’t interested. I was hoping he’d bring back an older gelding. He brought back a three year old.

A three year old Haflinger gelding. Hhmm.

Well, he was definitely a looker. He was definitely one of the taller ones. He was definitely broke to ride and drive.

Hmmm.

He said that of the three geldings he had looked at, this one had no zip while the others did.

After what I had been through, no zip sounded pretty good.

Hmmmm. Could I test trail ride him?

Of course. When?

Saturday sound good?

Okay.

So, that Saturday, during the hottest part of the day, the stickiest day of the summer so far, I trail rode him with the Amish man and his son for three hours.

Well, after being used to my sweet, slow, old quarter horse gelding; every other horse has more zip!

This gelding, whose name I didn’t even know yet, started out rather strong and needed definite contact with the bit at all times. No slack reined western trained horse here! Fifteen minutes into the ride, I wondered if this was such a good idea. With an effort, I swallowed my apprehension at what might happen but hadn’t yet and decided to try and ride him through it.

We walked alongside roads and fields with cars passing in not too courteous ways and I was fine. We trotted alongside roads and I was fine. We clambered up and down hills and through streams and I was fine. We cantered through newly plowed fields and I was fine. Excellent brakes on this boy.

And we all sweated buckets!

I survived the trail ride without falling off or either of us getting heat stroke.

Nice horse. How much?

I closed my eyes and held my breath. Of course it would be a price I couldn’t afford.

Then he told me the price.

No wait! I can afford that!

A few days later, my husband and I unloaded my beautiful, new gelding from our rickety, old, green trailer at the farm where we boarded. I didn’t sleep very well the first week. I kept expecting something bad to happen like him tearing down the fence, getting out of his stall and into the feed room or getting beat up by the other horses. Well, my old quarter horse wasn’t too impressed but he didn’t hurt him.

The most excitement I saw was that he let the two year old Appaloosa filly mount him while he made submissive faces. I rolled my eyes.

‘Oh great! I’ve bought a wimp!’ I thought.

Now I’m convinced that he will do anything a female tells him to do whether she’s human or horse. He still lets that mare who is smaller than him mount him!

Well, its been a little over a year together and the Haflinger I nicknamed Tassletop is coming along beautifully. We’ve really bonded together, in and out of the saddle. His brakes still work wonderfully and so does his accelerator. We’ve done lots of ring work and while I am bored with it, I don’t think he is. He tries so hard to please me and that’s a really big thing to me. If he can figure out what I’m asking him to do, he’ll throw himself into the task. He knows I want him to be quiet and calm at all times. The neighbor lady gave me some pointers in training him and they’ve really helped. Like when encountering something strange and scary, I get him to touch it with his muzzle. Last time we rode, he encountered a huge blue tarp and I didn’t have to dismount to get him to “touch it”. That’s a big deal to me!

Oh he’s not Mr. Perfect! ( Have I mentioned his other nickname, Pigpen? Remember the ‘Peanuts’ character? That, in horse form, is him! I’m never without bluing shampoo and I dread the winters when I just have to grin and bear it. Ugh! ) But we’re learning together instead of apart. And we’re taking his training really slowly. I feel the bond between us when we ride. When I first climb in the saddle, I feel where his mind is and know what kind of ride we’re going to have. So far, every ride had been a pleasant, confidence building experience for both of us.

This past July we tried ring jousting for the first time! What fun! Again Tassletop tried his utmost to please me. We’re not quite ready to do the one hand on the reins thing or go full tilt but we’re getting there bit by bit. I was hoping to be fully jousting by this September. Maybe next September will be more realistic. Remember, take it slow. He’s also learning to leg yield and side pass and one day I plan on riding him side saddle so we’re getting used to one leg and a dressage whip. I plan on taking the side saddle training extremely slowly.

He seems to have created a wake of good things to follow. The rickety, little, green, horse trailer was traded in for a big, four horse stock. The house in the ‘burbs was exchanged for a log cabin in the woods with LAND! Someday soon I will bring him along with my old quarter horse and my hubby’s frisky Arab home. I can’t wait until I can walk out the door to feed my guys instead of get in the car and burn expensive gas twice a day!

And finally, after holding him at arm’s length emotionally, I’m starting to allow myself to get attached and love him. It seems my ‘Tassletop’ is quietly glueing the pieces of my heart back together.

I have no idea who raised this son of Aladdin Van De Peelkant but whoever brought up baby Amarillo KCH ya’ done a fine job!

Thank you so much for designing my bud Tassletop!

Kathleen Florio of Pocket Pony Farm, of York Co. Pa.