Stormy's Memorial: It's Getting There!

 

February 11 2024

 

My beloved Stormy galloped over the rainbow bridge 2 1/2 years ago. Soon after, I started creating a memorial for him. 

I got the outline done, gathered rocks I would eventually fill it in with. 

 

Time passed, and more time passed. Weeds grew, time kicked the rocks out of the outline, and the pile of rocks I collected for the insides seemed to shrink.

 

The time has come to start working on it again!

I pulled the weeds, I re-did the outline, and used all the rocks I'd collected to start filling it in. Now, when out on hikes, when I see just the right rocks, I carry them home to fill the gaps.

 

It will still take some time, but seeing as it took me about 2 1/2 years to complete my beloved Dudley's memorial up on a hillside, I'm right about on my time schedule. :)

Just like every time I see Dudley's memorial on the hill, every rock I carry to Stormy's memorial brings a memory back. I know they are happy with that.

This Old Horse

August 14 2020

 

Fed Ex man came to deliver something the other day, and he was concerned about the horse standing out in the driveway/road out front. “I’m worried he might run off.”

Not the slightest chance of that happening. That’s just my Golden Oldie Stormy, 29, (a.k.a. Old Farticus) who just hangs out up there occasionally. He and old man Krusty (R.I.P.) used to wander out there and eat grass, stand in the road and doze, just hang out together. 

Now that Stormy’s old and doesn’t have enough teeth to eat hay, he gets full range of the place, wandering wherever he wants to eat grass (and he gets yummy mashes twice a day). He doesn’t care anymore if the herd leaves him; he just wants to eat and doze. Sometimes he’s on the grass on the pasture; sometimes he wanders out front and mows the grass; sometimes he hangs out in the road snoozing, the equivalent of an old man falling asleep in his lazyboy taking an afternoon nap. Maybe he dreams of the days he and Krusty, the two old patriarchs, hung out there together. 

Sometimes you have to drive around Stormy because he won’t move out of your way, but there’s no danger he’s going to run off anywhere. Except back to the house if he hears me open the door to the feed room on the other side of the creek, because while he has Selective Hearing, he’s got ears sharper than a spy for the sound of that squeaky door, which brings him running!

Just in case, though, I got this sign made for him.

Happy 29th Birthday Stormy!

Tuesday April 14 2020

Wow. My old man has turned 29. 

I've had Stormy for 21 years now. Besides being a former racehorse (who earned his keep at Yakima Meadows, Playfair, and Emerald Downs in Washington - I was his groom at Emerald), Stormy's been a trail horse, a pack string leader, a pet, and a lawn mower. He still does the latter and works most diligently at it, even though he's lost a good number of teeth.

He's earned his several mashes a day, and he gets the run of the place - he either wanders about the property grazing, or he hangs with the herd and either follows or leads them on walkabouts up the canyon. And he can still turn on the turbos, sprinting after the herd if they've left without him.

He's got the dream life all retired Thoroughbred racehorses would love to have, and I'm so happy The Most Beautiful Horse On The Planet is MINE!

Happy Birthday you old duffer!

(or link) https://youtu.be/O3ZTOWMvO3g

Story Behind the Photo: Rabbit Brush

January 6 2019

This is my horse Stormy, The Most Beautiful Horse on the Planet, hanging out in blooming rabbit brush in the Sierra Nevadas in California. 

A Thoroughbred former racehorse, he’s now 27 years old. I was his groom on the racetrack in Washington where he earned his keep: six wins in 42 lifetime starts, $45,000 in earnings. My housemate kept saying I was going to own him one day. No, no, no, I said; though I loved Stormy, I had no money and no place for a horse. 

But things that are meant to be eventually happen. He’s given me joy now for almost 20 years. Stormy is profiled in my book, Soul Deep In Horses.

Note: this photo was taken around the year 2000, when Stormy was a young buck!

My Calendar Pin Up Hunk

Tuesday January 24 2017

Four magazine covers (Southern Racehorse, The Horsemen's Journal, The Washington Thoroughbred, Washington Thoroughbred Breeders Association Summer Yearling Sale Catalogue) and now two calendars for the WTBOA - Washington Thoroughbred Breeders & Owners Association - in 2016 and 2017 for my pin-up boy Stormy, The Most Beautiful Horse On The Planet.

Stormy was delighted to be the December and January pin up boy again in the WTBOA's new 2017 calendar, that features the Washington Thoroughbred industry (I was Stormy's groom when he ran at Emerald Downs in 1997-98).

But who's counting? Stormy's not… he'd rather be eating. 

But of course I am delighted! You can order these calendars by contacting the Washington Thoroughbred.

and yes, that is Stormy rearing up on the right, and his FBFF Tex (aka Linda's Ted) on the left!

Photobombsicle

Friday January 6 2017

One of the many delights of winter is the way Mother Nature decorates the horses with snow and ice.

You already saw Manesicles, then Beardsicles.

Now here it is: the first ever Photobombsicle. Although I'm not sure who photobombed who, it's definitely Mother Nature having the biggest laugh at me and Stormy (The Most Beautiful Horse On The Planet).

Manesicle

December 15 2016

And here I was all worried that we wouldn't get any real winter weather (although winter doesn't technically start for another week), and we got a good 6 inches yesterday (!!!!!!!). Temperature close to freezing, and the sky dropping tiny little ice slivers, so it was a wet snow, which slowly piled up during the day.

Made for scenic icicles in horse manes. Stormy sports his with a dash of flair.

Sweet Senility

Monday October 21 2016

It's late, cold wind howling outside, and I've just about taken that last step into dreamland when a horse whinnies.

Huh? That's a bit odd. Sure, we have plenty of horses out here, but they don't stand around in a herd together and whinny at each other. I couldn't tell who it was or where it came from.

Then another somewhat panicked whinny - that's my horse! Stormy must be separated from the herd! I heard the whinny moving around - he's left behind, and he can't find the herd; and now there's no way I'm going to sleep, listening to my panicked horse running around in the dark trying to find his mates.

Connie says Stormy's a bit senile… and I think she's a bit right. He's 25 now, and he doesn't really rush anywhere anymore, and he's mostly motivated by food, and me. In that order. If I go out to see the herd, he'll come up to me… unless he's eating, or unless he's headed to food. If he's headed to food, he'll mow right past me, as if he doesn't even see me standing there.

He'll often be left standing at the hay feeder eating when the herd leaves to roam up the canyon. Or, he'll be grazing up the canyon with the herd, and they'll leave to start heading home… and he's left behind. He must be so focused on eating that he doesn't notice them leaving. 

It's not till I yell, "STORMY! Come on ThurBred!" that he'll look up from his food and realize the herd has left him, and he'll start moseying along after them.

Same thing must have happened last night during the wind storm. Great. How was *I* supposed to find the herd in the dark on 300 acres?

I crawled out of bed, got dressed, grabbed two headlamps, and plunged out into the cold wind. I went directly to the back pen, where Stormy came up snuffling and sniffing to me, I lost my herd!

"OK, Come on Stormy, we'll try to find them." I walked through the pens out to the front, Stormy at my side. He whinnied now and then (the herd will rarely ever answer when one horse is left behind), but he was content to follow me because he knew I'd save him and reunite him with his friends.

It was darker'n the inside of a cow (says a friend's husband) but for the brilliant stars in the sky. My two headlamps barely pierced the desert, as if the wind was blowing the light back at us. Sagebrush and rabbit brush glowed ghostly in my lights, but I couldn't see any eyeballs blinking at us. I had no idea where they'd be. Across the creek? Just up in the front pasture along an old drainage ditch out of the wind? Or way up the canyon? Or way up the canyon across the creek? There was no way of knowing. My lights were too dim to detect any fresh tracks, and we just had some rain anyway, not to mention an endurance ride, so it would be hard to tell what tracks had been most recent.

Stormy followed me contentedly, throwing out a whinny now and then, as we headed up the canyon. The cold wind singed my ears and made my eyes water. We walked on and on, searching for reflected eyeballs, Stormy sniffing the road like a bloodhound. 

I walked about a half mile up, and realized how futile it was looking for the herd. They could literally be anywhere on the 300 acres. I stopped, ready to turn around and lead Stormy back home, maybe grab Mufasa and lock them up together so Stormy would have some company.

Then I heard a whinny - it was Smokey calling to Stormy! Bless you Smokey! I walked another 50 feet up the road, and there were the eyeballs looking at us, wondering what the heck I was doing out at midnight strolling in a wind storm with my senile horse.

Stormy didn't show any emotion as he reunited with his herd, because of course he knew I was going to lead him to them.

I turned around to walk back home, and the whole herd followed me all the way back with Stormy. I told them all to keep an eye on the old man from now on.

Double Blessed: Stormy's Bloody Shoulder

Monday July 4 2016

Already, Stormy carries the "Thumbprint of the Prophet".

But now he must be doubly prophet-blessed, because in just the last month he suddenly showed up with the "bleached bloody shoulder."

One of many versions of the legend of the bloody-shouldered Arabian mare is:

a powerful shaikh rode his beautiful milk-white, pregnant Arabian mare into battle. He performed with great honor but was wounded badly. After the battle, as his mare carefully carried him home, blood from his wounds dripped down the mare's shoulder. By the time the mare found her way back to camp, the shaikh had died. That night, the mare foaled, and her colt was born with the bloody stain down his shoulder.

Legend has it that the dead shaikh arranged with the gods that his mare’s dedication would be commended so that forever after, any descendant of hers who was possessed of outstanding courage or ability would bear the blood stains as a mark of honor.

Obviously, Stormy has been visited and blessed by the prophet, again, like overnight. I mean - what else could it be? (Never mind he's not Arabian and he's not white, and the 'bloody shoulder' is usually chestnut colored on a white body.) 

Or, it's ever so possible that Jose, the Owyhee Social Director, was experimenting with bleach and vinegar and baking soda to make an Owyhee volcano for one of his outdoor geology classes, and he spilled some of the liquid magma on Stormy's shoulder, which bleached it out.

But either way, it must be another super well-deserved blessing for Stormy!

Happy Birthday, Old Man!

Wednesday April 13 2016

It seems like suddenly, he's gray, hairy, swaybacked, and old. Stormy, The Most Beautiful Horse On The Planet, turns 25 (!!!!!!) today. 

For the first time, he didn't hold his weight over the winter; his belly sagged and his spine sharpened. He may have a touch of cushings disease, because he won't let go of his thick winter coat. Some of us think he might be getting a bit senile, though if you saw him heading for his grain bucket or the grass pasture, you might not think so.

Gray hairs have sprouted on his face - around his mouth, over his eyes, at his temples, places on his back and butt. 

He still has a couple of short sprints left in him, though he's hardly ever in a hurry (except for his grain!). If the herd leaves him behind sprinting back down from the canyon, here comes Stormy a few minutes later, waddling down steadily, because he knows he'll eventually get here and his treats will still be waiting for him.

I can't believe I've had this lovely horse for so long. I got him as an 8-year-old in 1999 after his racing career (I was his groom at Emerald Downs). He joined me in California where I worked for the Forest Service on trails; he did some work leading pack horses in the mountains, and carrying wranglers on a dude ranch in the summers (he loved the girl wranglers best). In the winters he hung out with endurance horses - a couple of them somewhat famous - swapping racing tales with their endurance tales.

He later joined me here in Idaho, where he hangs out with more endurance horses. His only jobs now are eating and getting smooched on. 

He may be an Oldie now, but he's a Golden Oldie. And no matter how hairy, how dirty, how scruffy he gets, he's still The Most Beautiful Horse On The Planet.

Happy Birthday Stormy! 

Seven Grand (With The Raven)

Jose, Tough Sucker

February 5 2016

I didn't have any particular goals when I started riding endurance in 1998, except to ride, ride, ride. 

7000 AERC miles later, it's pretty much the same: all I still want to do is ride, ride, ride (with The Raven).

If this were my Oscar speech*, I'd have a long list of thank you's that you'd have to sit through. But I'll shorten it up for this 7000-mile landmark.

Dudley, City of Rocks

I'm a bit of an unorthodox one in the endurance riding world, as I've never owned my own endurance horse. To be sure, I do own Stormy, The Most Beautiful Horse On The Planet, but he's a Thoroughbred ex-racehorse that I didn't feel the desire or need to try to turn into an endurance horse. 

Instead, I rode for the 'normal' endurance people, who inevitably have always had extra horses that needed Rode. So I Rode and Rode and Rode, Lots and Lots and Lots of training miles, and 7000 AERC endurance ride miles, with The Raven, in Texas, California, Washington, Nevada, Oregon, Idaho, Wyoming, and Utah (and even a 12.5 mile ride in France!).

Jose, Tough Sucker

I rode the USA endurance rides with The Raven on 36 different horses (and many, many more miles on horses for just training rides, but not endurance rides). Some were good horses, some were naughty horses. Some were favorite horses, some were not. Some horses I rode, with The Raven, only once, for 50 miles. Two horses I rode, with The Raven, for over a thousand miles (Royal Raffiq and Jose Viola!). I have learned something from every single one of these horses, and on every ride, I still learn something.

Jose, Death Valley

I've gotten to know some fabulous people through endurance riding. I've gotten to do some terrific rides, with The Raven - some memorable standouts are all 5 days of the Owyhee  Canyonlands (alas, this ride is no longer 5 days long) on Jose one year with Connie and Finneas; the Moab Canyons (alas, now gone - a crime!) on Jose with Steph and Batman; the Virginia City 100 on Royal Raffiq; Tevis on Big Sky Quinn, generously shared by Nance Worman.

It just goes to show you that endurance riding is a catch-all kind of sport. You can ride any kind of horse, any distance you want, with any kind of goals you want, or no goals at all. You can ride for awards, or you can just Ride. You can ride with a Raven. You really don't have to own your own endurance horse. You can ride just about anywhere around the world. And best of all, you can just Keep On Riding! Preferably, with The Raven!

Zayante, Death Valley

*No, I've never had a desire to be an actor, but I'm prepared to give an Oscar speech

But if you really did want to listen to my whole list of thank-you horses, this would be it:

Windswift Barak (Rocky), Masrita, Zayante, Graywing, Senorita Margarita (Maggie), Royal Raffiq, Rocketman, Fire Mt Redman, Oak Hill Kindred Spirit, FC Cloud, Camille BC, Fire Mt Odyssey, Oak Hill Quigley, Definetly Spice, LJ Jasuur Haraka (Jasbo), Krugerand (Charlie), Rip Tyde, Fire Mt Fadrika, Nature's Quicksilver (Quickie), Jaziret Bey Musc (Rhett), Rushcreek Mac, SSS Razzmatazz (Razzie), Jose Viola, Amazing Kon, Big Sky Quinn, Z Blue Lightening, Thunder's Hattrick, Kustom Kavalier, Phinneas, MiLon, Amara's Sonata (Sunny), Marble Leiten (Bodie), Ravenwood Dark Desire (Batman), DWA Saruq, Rushcreek Drover (D), Belesemo Dude (Dudley!)

And, technically, The Raven actually has 5 more AERC miles than I do, and he has two Tevis buckles, where I only have one! 

But that's a story for The Raven to tell later.

Zayante and Raffiq, Death Valley

Ode to Winter 2015

Wednesday January 23 2015

A snot-dripping, eye-watering wind hurls down from a tablecloth cloud hanging over the white Owyhee mountains. I'm leaning into the howling gale as it batters me off the ridge trail I'm hiking. The 'breeze' is 20 to 30 miles an hour, gusting to 40. Those little blasts are knocking me sideways. The wind chill is below 20*. But it's always fun braving the Owyhee winter wind on a hike (not a ride!).

The horses have been huddled behind the hay feeder all day as a windbreak, eating hay to stay warm.

I had just refused to believe the projected El Niño predictions of southwest Idaho being drier and warmer than normal. Not fair! It just had to snow and get cold this winter! And my denial has paid off: unexpectedly, the Owyhee mountains are currently at 140% of normal snowfall already. That's great news to a years-long drought that has parched the land in the summer, dried up cricks, and lowered the water table, among other less obvious things.

The latest winter storm we're in the middle of (lasting several days) dumped a load of wet stuff from the Pacific: big wet gloppy snowflakes in just-at-freezing temperatures. Much of it melted, then turned to sleet then rain which melted the snow into gloppy mud, then more wet snow. It's unlike the dry fluffy snow that comes with arctic blasts from the north that evaporates without contributing anything to the earth. This wet stuff means more groundwater soaking in. Not so great for horses standing in mud, but you take what you can get, when you can get it, in the desert.

I'll be gone down south at least a month, but I hope the cold and snow continues up here. But I also hope it saves some more cold, wet action for me for when I get back!

that's Stormy, wearing a snow blanket!

Snow Happy

Thursday December 17 2015

You can see by the picture above that I'm not the only one happy about the snow!

It came all of a sudden yesterday afternoon. One minute it was sunny, the next minute it was snowing, and in 30 minutes the ground was white. Yippee!

I've been turning Dudley out with the herd late mornings - leading them all up past the green gate so they can roam the 200 acres, and calling them back down in the evenings and locking them down at the house on the hay at nights (mostly because of cougar jitters - me, not them).

Some evenings, I can walk out and whistle-yell-whistle-yell, my voice echoing up the canyon if the wind is right, and they'll eventually come down on their own, sometimes sprinting, sometimes strolling. The other day I had to hike all the way up the canyon for them. They very bloody well heard me but gave me the hoof - totally ignored me, and I actually had to drive/chase them all the way back down. 

Yesterday evening in the snowstorm, I wondered if I'd even see the herd. I started hiking up the canyon, not even bothering to holler or whistle because the wind blew the sound right back down my throat.

But miraculously, the herd was already on their way back down. 

I barely caught a glimpse of movement in the sideways-whipping flakes, dark figures making a beeline back home to the hay. Dudley was in front, head down, Orlov trot turned on high, leading the herd on a mission (food!).

Stormy was the trailer. 

It was so snowy and windy, they never saw me, as I merged with sagebrush and rabbitbrush, watching them as they trotted on by.

More snow is supposed to be on the way today.

Dudley and I can only hope!

Beautiful at Any Angle

Friday July 24 2015

As he ages, he stands a little bent over at the knees; his withers get sharper as his belly sags a little further downward. He's getting gray hairs. He'll often stroll in after the herd runs back down from the canyon, although if he puts his mind to it, he can still turn on the afterburners and lead the charge. He seems to know he's getting to be an old man; he and the other old man Krusty hang out together a lot.

But none of that matters, because Stormy is beautiful at any angle, any light, any distance, any pose.

The Most Beautiful Horse On The Planet Turns 24

Monday April 13 2015

Who cares who's running for President (seriously, we have to start listening to this stuff already??), who cares if the globe is warming (I could've told you that years ago - I'm always hot), who cares what the market does today - this should be the 'round-the-world headlines for the day: The Most Beautiful Horse On The Planet Turns 24.

Beloved Stormy: former racehorse, pack string leader, dude ranch wrangler horse, lesson horse, local handyman, trail marker, lawn mower, model cover boy - he turns 24 years old today.

It's been 18 years since that first year he looked at me from his stall at Emerald Downs racetrack in Washington, 15 years since he first owned me; from Washington to the forests of the Sierra Nevadas and the Mojave Desert in California, to the wilds of Owyhee - we've had some good adventures.

He still hates being brushed; he still loves to stuff his mouth with carrots till they spill out the sides; he still enjoys a wicked sprint down the canyon at the head of the herd now and then; he still nickers at me when he sees me walking out in the pasture. And day-um - he's still just knock-out gorgeous.

I just love this Thoroughbred.

Happy Birthday Stormy!