Sam's Story

I've been promising this for a while, but this morning I woke up and felt like writing it.
 (This can also be read as: it's freezing and rainy and I don't want to get out of bed and put on pants. Honestly though, at the start of break it was so nice I gave Max a bath and last night it snowed. Snowed. In Arkansas! Go home weather, you're drunk.)

I've been a little nervous about posting this story because it's well, personal to me.

Sam is my horse, the one that will never be sold no matter how obnoxious and grumpy he may be. Because it's why I love him. (Most of the time.)

I got Sam when I was 13-14 years old. I should begin by saying that I have clinical depression that was at the time, un-diagnosed and untreated (I am now on a nice strong anti-depressant and it works wonders). I had sold my last horse because I couldn't stand buying another one and having them be the wrong fit. I wanted a horse that wouldn't hurt me, that would love me back and that I could ride without fear. You know, that perfect horse that suddenly makes up for you not being a very strong rider. The one that's about as real as a unicorn.

Herp Derp, what do you mean I'm not real?

I just couldn't stand the thought of going through the heartbreak of buying the wrong horse one more time so I sold my horse of the time, and we moved to a subdivision. My parents promised me they would get me a 4-wheeler (spoiler, they never did). I worked at a stable at the time so I  would still be around horses; I could even ride their two Arabians if I wanted to. Shockingly, it wasn't enough for someone as horse crazy as I am.

My grades began to slip, my moods worsened, I didn't want to do anything ever, everything was overwhelming and if I'm being perfectly honest and upfront, I self injured. I knew that something wasn't right and that it had gotten so much worse since I became a non horse owner. So I left a note on the computer keyboard that went something like this:
"Mom, I really, really NEED a horse again. Please. Just trust me."

My mother, knowing something was off with me, agreed. I talked to the owner of the barn I worked for and she agreed that I could board a horse there in exchange for working- bye bye paycheck... So now the hunt was on. I didn't have a whole lot of money so I needed a horse that I could afford. This was before the market became what it is now. $500 horses were uncommon and $2,000 horses were much more likely.

We scoured the local paper and even some online sites. Finally we saw an ad:
"Sorrel gelding, TWH, $500."

We called. The man told us that he was a little skinny but broke to ride and that he was around 10-12 years old. We set up a meeting to go see him and my little mind immediately filled with pictures of pretty sorrel horses with long manes and adorable blazes. (I should mention, I have never particularly been fond of for chestnut or sorrel colored horses.)

The day we went to go see him after school I could hardly sit still, my mother kept reminding me not to get my hopes up or fall for the first horse I saw. It didn't do any good, I was going to get a horse again!

We pulled into the ramshackle driveway and my heart sank. The guy was a horse trader. We'd met him before when we were looking for a horse for my mother. I had not been impressed at the time and I didn't expect to be this time.

He welcomed us and we went into the tin barn. There was some washy reddish cow standing in the corner lipping at some hay. "Where was my horse?" I wondered silently.
The man pointed to the bony cow and said: "He's a little skinny."

That? That cow or moose monstrosity was supposed to be my horse?! He looked half dead! His head was gigantic and his neck was pathetically thin. His back bone stuck up a good 3 inches and you could count every rib bone.

"I've had him about 3 weeks" the man said, "You should have seen him then. He's put on a lot of weight since then."

He had? WHERE? Surely this horse was close to collapsing  It was then that the ugliest horse I'd ever seen decided to turn and walk up to me and put his over sized head against my stomach. He left it there for 15 minutes while my mother talked to the man. Ugly he may be, but he had chosen me. He needed me and I needed him.

The man, a tall overweight fellow, hooked a lead rope to the halter and jumped on bareback, no mounting block. I cringed, how could the poor thing hold him up?! The horse trotted around the arena with the brute of a man on his back. I just wanted him to get off.

Whatever he was, he clearly was NOT a  TWH and we told him so. The man said he'd gotten him from the Shipshewana horse auction, in the heart of Amish country.

 He'd been in a herd of horses that looked a lot like him, just as skinny, and were run through. Kill horses essentially. He said he saw him and just knew he was too good to go to slaughter.
"What was his name?" I asked.
"Name? He ain't really got a name, I jus' been calling him sorrel geldin'."

Then it was my turn. The man put a saddle that clearly didn't fit on his back and I got on. He moved unlike any horse I'd ever felt. He did decently well so my mother said we'd think about it and get back to him. It was too late at that point, my young heart had fallen for the ugly washy colored thing.

In the car on the way home my mother tried to get me to think logically, there were other horses to see after all. He might not even pass a vet inspection. And so on.
In my head I was already thinking up names. The first name? Crow- for crowbait because that's what he looked fit for.

We went back to see him another time. This time I rode him down the road. On the way he took me under the house overhanging porch and reared up a little. Then he tried to run off with me down the road. My mother didn't see either of these things. These didn't change my mind however, they just made me determined to make this horse be *my* dream horse. He was going to work out dang it even if I had to make him.

We were going to come back a third time, I'd be lying if I said I wasn't shaken up at all from the last ride, when the owner called us. He said he had someone call who wanted him "sight unseen" but he wanted to give us first chance. I panicked. What if my beautiful ugly horse was destined to go to slaughter after all?! I said we'd take him if he passed a vet check.

(Looking back, it's entirely likely there was no mysterious scary stranger and it was just a scare/rush tactic.)

 Then I went to the bank and withdrew 500 hard earned dollars. And we went to meet him at the vets. The vet did some blood work, checked his teeth and trotted him up and down the road. Eventually he declared the horse very underweight but healthy. He warned us that the horse would probably have a lot more energy once he was fattened up. We paid and then had the man follow us to the barn where the horse was put in the QT pen.

My boss advised me on how to get a starving horse back to health. I had recently watched the first Lord of the Rings after it came out on DVD. I was struck by how noble and how brave Sam had been going over Mr. Frodo in the boat scene and nearly drowning. I decided to name my new horse "Samwise". (Looking back I really have no idea how that fit together in my mind.)

And thus, Sam was home. I regret to say that I didn't take pictures of when we first got him. We waited until he'd gained some weight.

Sam was a strange horse from the start. Infuriating he might be but there was no doubt he had chose me in some way. He wouldn't eat if I missed a day of coming to see him. He'd stand by the fence facing the road, pace and neigh. If I, heaven forbid, missed two days, he'd practically shun me. He would pin his ears back, walk off and ignore me until I produced a suitable bribe of carrots or something.

Sam has awful conformation. I had no idea about conformation at the time but I do now.  Sam did indeed get more energy as he gained weight. He also turned out to have a bolting problem- he'd grab the bit and run off. Looking back, knowing he came from Amish country, I wonder how much saddle riding he actually had done before I got him. In addition to that, Sam was terrified of being hit. If I picked up a long blade of grass, he'd run away thinking it was a whip. If I picked up a whip for some reason, he'd start shaking before bolting off. He was really not okay with men, he was either scared of them or he'd pin his ears back at them.

Sam has thrown me to the ground more than any horse before or since. But unlike my other horses, I was determined to make this one work out. So I learned to ride because it was learn or eat dirt. I learned how read the changes in muscles and to stop a bolting horse.

One day I'd been trying to slow him down using the curb bit we'd been given. After  I got off I noticed a small cut/tear on his mouth. It was my fault. I sobbed and sobbed and apologized to him over and over again. I felt like the worst owner ever. Then I threw the wretched bit away and we bought a bitless bridle. I swore I wouldn't ride with a bit again until my hands softened back up and I wouldn't make the same mistake ever again. (I haven't.)

I finally got him to stop the bolting nonsense in the strangest way. After he'd grab the bit I'd learn forward, give him a small kick and yell "Yah!" He'd be so surprised he'd drop the bit and I could circle him to a stop.

Sam became my confidant, my friend when times were hard, my exploring buddy and my stability. He put up with me doing all the dumb reckless shit that teenagers do.

If I'm sad, Sam knows he can't be his bratty self and will be patient and do what I ask that day. If I'm feeling cocky, Sam won't hesitate to dump me on my butt and remind me I'm not so hot. 

(It was raining- Sam HATES the rain with a passion. If it sprinkles, he's heading straight back to the barn with his head tucked to his chest)

Teenage me thought Sam wanted a carrot from the kitchen... My mother was not pleased. Sam just wanted the dang carrot. 

Sam likes to make me laugh. He'll take his upper lip and "wooble" it against my stomach or clothes to make me giggle. If I have on a baggy shirt, he'll do that until he gets enough away from me to grab it gently in his teeth (He's always been very careful to never get my skin) 

He also likes to steal hats. Now I wouldn't let my other horses do this in a million years. But Sam is my horse and since I have no plans on ever selling him (I even wrote out a will stating what would happen to him if I died) it's my call. It's not disrespectful to me if I don't mind it. I've said it's okay so if something goes wrong and he does bite me, it's on my own head. (See what I did there?) 

Before we got rid of all the barb wire- we'd just moved from Indiana to Arkansas 

(We now have much better fencing, I promise)

Sam's weak conformation has left him with many disadvantages, he's got arthritis and I've accepted that no matter how much food I give him or how many supplements he's on, he'll never look like a chunky QH or have a nice round butt.  I bought him a special saddle so he's comfortable on "long" rides. Okay, it was also for my bum when I was a trail guide riding 21+ miles a day on a very regular basis.

This is a mark to how spoiled Sam is. This way he's always with me when I need him. 

When I showed it to Sam, he just looked annoyed I didn't bring carrots. "That money could have been spent on crunchy carrots mom! Thanks a lot."

Sam's muddy face one trail ride. The bug spray wasn't worked so we put mud on his face- it actually helped a whole lot. 

Sam has never really collected well. It's a mark, I think, so his days as an Amish cart horse where they have them keep their heads so high up (He still tries to harness himself to things- it's how the mounting block got broken).

Sam was between 8-12 years old (differing opinions from the vet and equine dentist) when I got him. Which makes him approximately between 17 and 21 now.  He's pretty much in retirement save the occasional trail ride and pasture jaunt. After all these years he's still a spunky SOB. Sam loves to go fast. All the time. So do I.  Sam made me a better rider and much more confident.

Sam also is the reason I do what I do. I never would have met him if some strange guy hadn't seen him at the sale and decided to give him a chance. My life would have been so different, so much worse, without him in it. So now I try and do the same thing for other horses. I just prefer ones with better conformation....

In other news, I still couldn't say for sure what breed he is. I've ridden about every gaited breed there is, the semi common ones anyway, and still don't know. Sam is my backyard bred, Amish born mutt and I love him anyway.

I'm going to try and attach a video and you guys can guess.  He's not collected nor am I trying, I just hopped on for a quick joy ride after he kept stealing the halter and banging it against the barn. So both our forms aren't great, whatever, we had fun. Hopefully you can look past that and maybe make a guess as to what breed or mix of breeds he may be.

I forgot one other thing about Sammy. He LOVES kids. Adores them. I don't particularly care for them but Sam thinks they're the bee's knees. I wouldn't dare put most adults up on Sam, he wouldn't tolerate it, but a kid? Sure thing. No worries at all.

If I put a 4 year old on him, he will stay steady at a walk no matter how much they kick or scream. If there's a baby in the pasture Sam is right there, keeping the other horses away from it, and trying to lick it. If there's a child with a mental or physical disability, Sam will lower his head to the ground and let them pet him all over. I've taken him to school with me and the special education class wanted to see him. They all really liked him and he was, for once, a perfect gentleman. 

This is Sam making sure no other horses get near my niece.