PONIES — THEY’RE BOTH sugar and spice, naughty and nice! I just adore them. I got my first one at age 8 named SuMac. She was a small Welsh pony who I spent hours riding bareback around our neighborhood in, at the time, the very small, rural town of Redding, Calif. She was probably older. She only liked to walk, not trot and definitely not run, which was fine with me. Especially since, a year prior, my parents leased a “kid’s safe horse” that I’d ride in the neighbor’s large cow pasture across the street. She had too fast of a walk for me, at 7, and would break into a run whenever she could with me grasping on to the saddle horn for dear life. Last time I rode her, she ran straight for a large oak tree with a low-lying branch, suddenly swerving right just prior to impact, which ejected me off the saddle with me making a hard landing on my back on top of a gnarly protruding trunk. Thankfully, I think, my head landed in a big, squishy cow pie (that’s manure to you city folks).
That was the first of several times in my lifetime that I’ve been thrown off a horse and landed on my back. That’s the difference between a true horse lover and those who don’t. We lovers just get right back on to ride again, while others never ride again.
And, yes, my lower back is a constant reminder of falling off, getting bucked off and having a horse slip and fall on me — and I don’t regret it.
Upon moving to Sequim with my folks, sister and her kids in 1997, one of the first things I did (after building a fence around the pasture) was to buy a horse for me and a pony for my already horse-crazy niece, Brooke Stromberg, 5.
As soon as I fenced the pasture, my mother and I traveled to a horse auction in Yelm, where, before the auction started, we saw this perfect-looking, pure white Shetland Pony, and we both wanted him. His owner was holding her toddler as he sat on the back. She assured us he was a well-trained kid’s pony, so we purchased him along with a 17-hand off-the-track thoroughbred, Coyote.
Well, let the buyer beware, because she outright lied to us trusting and ignorant buyers. (I think she may have sedated him prior to selling). He wasn’t trained for anything except being led around with a halter.
He did stand calmly when I put a kid’s Western saddle on him. I put Brooke on his back and walked them around the backyard when — lickety-split — he suddenly scooted out from under her so fast she rolled off the back of the saddle and landed on the grass, shook up but not hurt.
That’s how his name went from Snow to Snowball Express. Let me tell you, he was one fast-walking pony, too. He was able to keep up with Coyote’s long-strides and walk side-by-side with him on long trail rides through Cassidy Creek DNR.
While Brooke loved Snow, it was obvious she needed a safer pony. I was shopping at Sequim’s Clallam Co-op when I saw a little index card with a photo of the palomino-colored Gold for sale on a bulletin board. He had been a backyard pony for two young boys who outgrew him. We soon discovered there was one big problem with Gold: He’d put his head down to graze and, as much as Brooke tried and tried to pull his head up, she wasn’t strong enough — despite him wearing a solid bit with a port that would put pressure on the roof of his mouth when she pulled back.
Neighbor and horse trainer Jeanie Wolf easily solved that problem by attaching baling twine to each side of the bit, weaving it up through the headstall and attaching the ends to the saddle horn. She gave Gold enough slack to walk with a relaxed neck but prevent him from lowering his head to eat grass. That problem solved led to years of good riding for Brooke and her friends, who would take turns riding the now better-trained Snow and Gold. Eventually, Brooke was strong enough to keep Gold’s head up, and we were able to remove the twine.
At age 9, Brooke joined the Sidekicks 4-H group led by Marie Dickinson and started barrel racing our well-seasoned games horse April, who had been previously barrel raced by a 4-H teenage boy in Port Townsend. I think it was at Brooke’s first Clallam County Fair 4-H show that we discovered the most adorable little barrel racing pony, Sugar, who was for sale. Naturally, we brought her home for Brooke and her younger brothers, Wesley and Keaton, to ride.
Between Brooke, her friends and brothers, all three ponies were getting ridden. Wesley had a blast running Sugar around our backyard — smaller and a more controlled environment than the pasture — wearing his little black cowboy hat and boots. Eventually, his younger brother Keaton started joining us on trail rides on Sugar. I had so much joy riding with those kids and their ponies.
Favorite memory: It was the early 2000s. I rode Coyote, friend Cyndi Sanders rode April, Brooke rode Goldie and Wes rode Snowball for an overnight camping trip in the woods.
We began from our home at the end of Olson Road, rode up through the Cassidy Creek DNR trails to trails in Olympic National Forest to National Forest Department road 2981 and rode to our destination, Slab Camp.
It was much too chilly, yet it was a good, memorable night for all. Recognizing the kids would be miserable riding five to six hours home, we instead opted to ride to our friends’ house, Willie and Robin Ramon, off Taylor Cutoff and called my mom to pick us up (we didn’t own cell phones back then).
Mind you, while I’ve loved my ponies, I’m not writing this to encourage you to get your kid a pony — unless you’re an experienced horse person yourself. They take knowledge of horse ownership, a lifetime commitment, lots of work, money (especially in today’s economy), time, patience and training. Most ponies do have an ornery side. And accidents do happen on even the best-trained ponies and horses.
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Karen Griffiths’ column, Peninsula Horseplay, appears the second and fourth Saturday of each month.
If you have a horse event, clinic or seminar you would like listed, email Griffiths at kbg@olympus.net at least two weeks in advance. You can also call her at 360-460-6299.
