I grew up on a small ranch in the Upper Peninsula and was raised by my grandparents. I was fortunate enough to have horses since I was 11 years old. I hounded my grandparents incessently to buy me one from the moment I could goo "O-rsey". I couldn't understand why it wasn't just a given as we lived on 160 acres and raised Hereford cattle. Gramp's old school mentality was "You want it, you take care of it" and so threw out a "rule" he thought would buy him some time . . . I had to be able to throw a bale of hay at least three high from the ground onto a moving hay wagon! Well, I must have had the best pitching arm of any 10 year old within 4 counties by the time I was done, but trust me, the bale went FIVE HIGH! "Can I get my horse now?" He tried one last ploy. I had shoulder length hair, and he told me a girl couldn't be working out in the barn and with horses with all that sgraggly hair flying around. By the time he got home from work that night, I looked like I was ready to join the marines! Yep, we went horse shopping! My first horse, Nasa, came complete with his tack ( and I use the term loosely! ) for the bargain price of $150. ( remember folks, this was 1976, ha ha ) I owe the ornery ole' cuss a great debt - he taught me how to ride, I mean REALLY ride. And I don't mean through lessons and years of instruction. We lived in a remote area of the UP, and other than a store at the blinker light town we could go to for basic staples like bread and milk, for the BIG shopping trips, we went to "town" every month or two, which would generally be Escanaba or Marquette. The week after my new dreamhorse came to live with me, I was saddled and out happily bouncing down an old country road when Nasa suddenly decided to begin my education and show me what a rollback into a mailbox looked like. He completed the maneuver perfectly, I on the other hand, traded his back for the mailbox. When I finally caught up with him back at the barn ( I swear he was laughing at me ) the saddle, or what was left of it, was hanging under his belly. I could almost hear him say,"How ya gonna ride me NOW?" I had two choices - we were not due for a trip to "town" where there was a tack store for at least a month. I couldn't imagine after waiting 11 years, not riding for another 30 days. I had but one choice - ride bareback! Hey, the Indians did it on TV, right? How hard could it be? Well, I won't go into the gory details of finding the answer to THAT, suffice it to say, by the time we got my beautiful new saddle in Escanaba 6 weeks later, I really wasn't that excited as I had somehow managed to stick that horse by just using my legs and learning to balance. It was nice to have one and all, but why bother "tacking up" when I could just throw on a bridle, jump on, and be off on some new adventure. It's been almost 32 years since my "riding lessons" with Nasa, and while I must admit, the higher level riding I've learned over the years from trainers has made me a much more polished and knowledgable equestrian, NO ONE taught me to sit a horse better than ole' Nasa. He finally died on the ranch at 33 years of age, and is buried there. My first horse, my riding instructor, my best friend. Horses appear to be an addiction I will never be free of ( nor want to be! ). I migrated south and married a city boy who "gets it" when it comes to my horses. I have one wonderful little 6 year old boy and 4 magnificent quarter horse mares I hand picked and raised from weanlings. I dabble at showing the foundation shows, entertain the thought of NRHA ( all my girls have reining training at some level ) , and then go for a great weekend of horse camping with my pals and remember where my true passion lies - traveling to different places with my four legged girlfriends in the back of my Sundowner, and seeing my two legged girlfriends following in my rear view mirror with theirs! I support my "habit" by working in the mortgage industry ( or what's LEFT of it these days )as an independent loan officer.
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