You know how Moms are... they always have those favorite stories to pull out for strangers who are already wondering what kind of weirdo you are... memories of "cute stuff" you did as a child (cute to them, that is), but generally just embarrassing.
Kudos to my Mom whose recitations never embarrassed me, but which encouraged and inspired me to reach for the stars in the world of horses.
At a family reunion when I was 4 years old, my Aunt Harriat (a large woman with an imposing bustline from which she could extract anything from a tissue to a candy bar depending on the occaision), lined up the children and in her busybody way, and began inquiring as to our aspirations for the future.
According to Mom, the answers were standard... "doctor", "fireman", "teacher"... until she got to me.
"I'm going to be a Jockey" said 4 year old me... "and also a Horse Trainer".
Sure 'nuff... I made my career as a jockey and horse trainer.
Give me a break... 4 year olds don't have a CLUE what they want to be when they grow up, yet there it was.
Strange child, for sure.
When I was 10 years old, we visited another Aunt and Uncle on their Idaho ranch.
Uncle Weaver worked for BLM rounding up Mustangs, and the day we arrived, he had 3 corrals of "fresh" horses they had just brought in.
I had already been riding since age 3 and had my own ponies at home, so with 7 years of "horsemanship" under my belt, I was a confident little girl around them... but knew nothing of wild horses.
Unbeknownst to the adults, I trekked down to check out the Mustangs, entered the holding corral, and began meeting and greeting the herd... untangling brambles from their manes, petting them, and observing them as they milled around me in uneasy fashion, but too curious to stay away. (Strength/Safety in numbers, ya know).
Within minutes, they were comfortable "talking" to me.
NO, I'm not a nut case... they weren't actually SPEAKING, but their body language was clear, and I found it easy to respond in kind to them... I remember it clearly... it was fabulous... they almost immediately accepted me into the herd, and allowed me to pet the foals and look deeply into their eyes to see their souls.
"WEAVER!" shrieked Aunt Carol when she saw me out the window, "come quick! There's a child in the holding pen!"
Enter Uncle Weaver, flanked by 2 or 3 cowboys... all heroically "saving me" from the dangerous wild horses, and I was in BIG TROUBLE when we got back to the house, you can bet on that.
It was worth it.
I realized that day, watching the nervous movements of the cowboys and the horses responding in kind; that some people are BORN with a natural ability to connect with horses, and I was one of the very lucky few!
Woo Hoo!!
Doesn't mean those cowboys weren't accomplished horsemen in their discipline... but there was something missing, and it was their comprehension of "horse speak".
They knew horses... but they didn't "get them".
It would be years before I realized that very few people really connect with horses... and it's a gift I treasure above any other in my life.
I also didn't realize it at the time, but through that contact with the "wild ones", I had entered the *Magic Unicorn* phase of my life.
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