Monday, April 23, 2012

In the Blood



Monday April 23 2012

I come from farming stock, where, back in the old days, horses were commonly used, to plow, pull wagons, get from here to there if'n it was too far to walk and you didn't have a car.

That's my dad, up top, with his 3 brothers on a farm horse. He's the one looking at the camera. Maybe he's saying 'Get them off my horse!' or 'Get me off this horse!'

I grew up horse-less, though I dreamed and schemed ways of getting a horse that never worked. As a compromise, my dad would squire me around our little town every weekend, so I could visit the town's horses - I knew where every one lived, and I even named them all. I never thought to ask my dad what he thought of horses. Did he ever have his own horse? Did he like working with them? Were they just another part of the farm chores?

I did think to ask my mom about horses in her life once; she said she used to have a horse named "Maggie," and when she'd be late getting home in the evenings, she'd run Maggie across the fields to get back home in time, and it was a wonder Maggie never stumbled or broke a leg in those fields they raced over. I got the feeling that my mom got a bit of a thrill out of it, but… I never really asked.

Is that where my obsession with horses comes from? A farm boy sitting on a horse, and a farm girl racing her horse home before dark? 

Or am I a throwback to some ancestor who grew up knowing horses like the back of her hand, galloping saddle-less and bridle-less across the mountains (I'm sure I got the mountain gene from some ancient being), speaking, thinking, knowing Horse?

The scant details - the photo, the one vignette - are tantalizing.

11 comments:

  1. It seems to me, a girl doesn't need a reason to want a horse. It's the most natural thing in the world.

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  2. My Grandmother was the horsewoman in my family and I think I got the gene from her. My Dad was brought up on the farm and handled the horses who used to pull the milk truck. Like you, I was "horse deprived" as a child, but as soon as I got my first job after college, it was full speed ahead and I've never looked back.

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  3. Heh. My mom broke her arm when a barn-sour horse clotheslined her on a tree. My dad rode a bit as a kid but never cared for it. They are totally bewildered by me - I am the horse-loving cuckoo child. Love the pic of your dad and uncles!

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  4. As far as I know there are NO horse people in my family. They all look at me as though I'm a little "tainted" in the head. My earliest memory is toddling over to and sitting in the shade under my grandfather's big draft. Nearly gave my Mom heart failure I guess, but the shade was nice and so were those feathery fetlocks :)

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  5. Random genetic variation. No one in my family was horse nuts and both my kids, while they like them ok, don't find them fascinating. We probably are more related to each other than we are to our families.

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  6. I got the gene too, though I wanted a dog before I could hardly speak (didn't get one til I was 18) and the horses were a pretty close second. My mom was a horse person, rode a lot, had friends that were then my friends when I started to ride, but my dad had no interest in them. We backpacked in the Sierras and whenever we passed a pack string I begged him to let us do that NEXT time instead of us carrying our backpacks. It didn't happen for me til I was in my mid thirties and he also was taken on horse back pack trips when he couldn't hike anymore. But, where it comes from....???? It's ingrained in so many of us. Any it's so wonderful.

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  7. I agree no reason needed to want a horse.. I cant see the photo.. oh no.. is it online somewhere else?

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  8. I think you're all right!
    and once you get it in the blood... ain't no getting it out.
    mastoyshop, reload the page, it should show up top of the post.

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  9. Cute photo of the 4 boys on a horse. It's interesting to contemplate where we came from and why we have our little obsessions. I, too, wish I had asked my mom and dad so many things that I never thought about when I had the chance.

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  10. It is in the blood...no matter from whom it came

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  11. I found out somewhat recently that on the mysterious side of my parentage (now that's another story altogether!) that there was a saddlemaker a few generations back. I'd like to think there's something to it.

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