It seems as if horses have always been a part of my life and they always shall be in one way or another. Right now out in the pasture we have four of them, three are stout American Quarter horses and one a gangly Thoroughbred. The one dearest to my heart is a venerable old fellow, a shaggy sway backed old man who despite the many equines that have passed through my life over the years has the special place of being my very first horse. Yes, believe it or not, even though I have been riding ponies and horses since as far back as I can remember, Luke is the very first horse that was 100% mine.
I first met Luke right before Darrell and I were married back in 1987. He was the son of Darrell’s riding horse, an impressive stallion by the name of Caucaroche who was the gentlest stallion I have ever had the privilege to be around. Luke was a young coming four year old, a beautiful golden Dun with the classic black stripe down his back, a grand fellow but alas not quite the temperament of his sire. Darrell raised Luke and sold him green broke to a friend of his but was keeping the young horse at his farm just outside of Bend. Now Luke was not really mean, he just had a rather playful side of him. My first up close and personal encounter with him was when I was out in the large 30 acre field. I was going to move the wheel line that was irrigating the field and was at the main motor unit when here comes Luke, barreling towards me before stopping and rearing up with a rather alarming demeanor. I happened to have a hammer in my hand at the time and without a thought I bonked him right between the eyes with it.
That, as they say, was the beginning of a beautiful friendship. Now Darrell’s friend still owned Luke and would occasionally take him out for a ride but I could see the fellow was not exactly a horseman and appeared to be quite afraid of Luke. After one incident of which I shall not relay at this point dear readers, let it just be said that Darrell subsequently bought Luke back from the chap and presented him to me as a wedding present. I had my very first horse that belonged to no one but me, could never be sold out from under me and would be my riding companion from that day forward. What a fine wedding gift he was.
From that time on Luke was my equine partner, my confidante, 
my consoler when I felt sad, my friend. For his entire riding career he only had a Western saddle on his back a handful of times as of course my English saddle was his and my attire of choice. I had great hopes he would become a stellar jumper as I had seen him clear a four foot barbed wire fence with ease one time when he decided to leave his pasture to go visiting right before Darrell bought him for me. Alas, although he would jump anything I pointed him at he had the tendency to kick up his heels in a joyful buck after every fence. Now this was not a big issue to me but when you have people out riding with you, following you to the same fence, their mounts sometimes catch Luke’s exuberance and also want to kick up their heels and often their riders do not think it such a laughing matter! So Luke’s career as a jumping horse never quite got off the ground. However, you could not ask for a better partner. He got me out of many a tight place when we were out riding after cows, I could drop the reins, kick my feet out of the stirrups, grab a chunk of mane and he would find a way out of the predicament I had got him into. Whether it be finding his way down an ashy steep slippery slope or lunging out of a deep muddy bog he kept me safe.
There was only one time he bucked me off and rightly so. A friend was over riding Darrell’s mare Candy and I was sitting on Luke who was standing perfectly still, watching them. Now instead of sitting astride as I should have been doing, I had one leg thrown across the pommel as if I were sitting side saddle in a comfy chair and I think Luke decided I was not showing him the respect deserved of the equine species. Out of the blue he kicked up his heels and unceremoniously dumped me on the ground then just stood there looking down at me as if to say: “I am NOT an easy chair!”.
All these thoughts came to my mind yesterday as I was out in the field with the boys with my shedding blade, attempting to rid them of some of their winter hair. The three younger horses did not have much hair to remove but my old partner Luke looks like a wooly mammoth. At well over 30 years old his coat is long and wooly a sure sign his endocrine system may be failing. He stood there in delight as I scraped and scraped an impressive amount of winter coat hair off his still substantial form, the clumps of hair blowing away in the brisk breeze to later be found by birds as a fine addition in which to line their nests. As I scoured away at him and he groomed me right back with gentleness befitting grooming a human, I found myself thinking back to all the adventures we had shared, how he was not only my horse but I was his human. How he would not let any other horse near me, how he always knows my moods and how he will forever be… my very first horse and dear, dear friend.
