The Horse: Why Do They Continue To Capture Our Hearts?

One thousand pounds came racing towards us at full speed. I could feel the vibrations in the ground as my three-year old daughter and I stood waiting by the wood fence. Getting closer with every second, I could see muscles rippling with the force it took to move the large body swiftly across the field. My 25 lb. daughter, dressed in her pink tutu, three beaded necklaces, and pink cowgirl boots, deftly climbed the wood fence with no discernible angst, awaiting the arrival. Within moments, she was face-to-face with the large gray horse. The smile that emerged on my daughter’s face was one of amazement, delight, and maybe even love.

As my daughter leaned over to get closer to the gray mare, the horse’s nostrils flared while breathing in the scent of her small hand. Large hooves stepped closer allowing my daughter the pleasure of stroking the mare’s warm, strong neck. With a quick jump, my daughter was on the ground grabbing large handfuls of long grass that had been out of reach of the horse’s hungry mouth. Standing up, she opened her hand, skillfully flattening out her fingers so the horse’s teeth wouldn’t accidentally find them, and fed the gentle giant the fresh, green grass. Shortly thereafter, my daughter and I continued on our way, but before we left, the sweet mare lowered her head down as my daughter snuggled in close for a heartfelt goodbye.

Keira and Chevela

Three years later – my little girl still visits the gray mare and her friends almost every day.

Keira with Horses 2017

I see so much of myself in my daughter.

Growing up, all I did was dream about horses, read books about horses, watch movies about horses (Black Beauty, The Horse Whisperer, and Wild Hearts Can’t Be Broken), while saving my birthday money to buy a horse. Unfortunately, I grew up in the suburbs of St. Paul, MN, so there was no room for a horse on our typical 1/3 of an acre lot. Doesn’t hurt to dream, right? But, I did as much as I could to be around horses. I went to horse camp, visited horses at local fairs, and stayed with my great-aunt and uncle up in Cambridge, MN for a week almost every summer. This yearly tradition is still one of my favorite memories.

My dad usually drove me up to the farm on a warm summer day as soon as he finished work. We looked forward to leaving the hustle and bustle of the cities to savor the lazy, country roads. With windows rolled down, the sweet smell of fresh-cut hay permeated the air, and the sound of katydids graced our ears as we watched the rows of corn race by our windows. When we arrived at the farm, my great-aunt was there to greet us with a warm hug and homemade goodies – I can still taste the warm, buttery homemade yeast bread, fresh from the oven. My great-uncle would appear from his office with a smile on his face – ready with a witty joke. His easy chuckle always filled the room. My dad would leave shortly thereafter, and I would race out to the horses and stay there until darkness fell and I was summoned into the farmhouse for the night.

Waking up to the sun rising over the country fields, as I sleepily gazed out of the second-floor farmhouse window, put a lazy smile on my face. I remember laying in bed in the morning daydreaming about living in the country while I waited for others in the house to awake – I was too excited to sleep. What I wouldn’t have given to spend every day caring for the horses, running wild through the fields, picking wildflowers, and learning to bake homemade bread. Within moments of emerging from my daydream, I would bound out of bed – excitedly running downstairs and out the door to see the horses. Waiting was no longer an option.

My second cousin and I spent hours each summer day riding horses, braiding manes, brushing tails, spraying fly repellent on coats, filling water troughs, and feeding the horses crab apples that had fallen from the old crab apple tree. These things may seem like chores to many, but to me it was more of a paradise. Many times I walked out to find the horses in the field, where I would simply sit and observe them from a distance. I loved watching the horses eat the sweet clover, scratch their necks on the rough bark of a nearby tree, twitch their coats to rid themselves of pesky flies, and sporadically startle and take off at a full gallop. Again, I’d find myself daydreaming, but this time it was about jumping on a horse and taking off into the sunset. There is no magic combination or special play of words that can describe what these summer memories at my great-aunt and uncle’s farm have meant to me, but they most-assuredly have contributed to my love of horses.

My daughter and I are not the only ones to have horses capture our hearts in the family. My mother owned her own horse and kept it at my great-aunt and uncle’s farm when she was growing up. Ironically, her horse’s name was Sunset.Β Fitting.

My great-grandfather, Roy Falk, was an ardent writer, and many entries in his memoirs include horses, much to my surprise and pleasure. Some stories have brought me to tears – no surprise to those who know me. I can’t get through a great horse book, movie, or story without bawling my eyes out. Yes, I’m one of those. Don’t get me started on the time my kids jumped on a horse for the first time. Geez! When I see the relationship between horses and their humans, it gets me right in the ticker.

Anyway, my great-grandfather and his family had quite the relationship with one of their horses namedΒ Rowdy.Β Let’s begin with a story about how this horse was given his name – not very pleasant. This story involves my great-grandfather’s uncle, Pete West. My great-grandfather wrote:

EPSON MFP image
Henry West (Pete’s brother) and Rowdy – 1912

One Incident that I wish to mention here is of a terrible thing that happened to Pete West when he was a young man. Just south of my father’s farm, about 2 1/2 miles, there was a dance hall. Well, Pete took his horse and buggy and danced with the girls of that community. This angered the boys so they ganged up on Pete. Some beat him, but one fellow, John Lundquist, stabbed Pete 22 times with a pocket knife. Mother nursed him back to health. They [the attackers] also cut up the harness on his horse. Sheriff Claus Johnson wanted Pete to name his attackers, but Pete refused, saying he wanted to do his own punishing, which he did. Well, he finally recovered and one-by-one the rowdies who had beat and knifed him were severely beaten by Pete himself. The last one to be punished was John Lundquist whom he met one day near Cambridge. Pete picked John off a high wagon and pretty near finished him, so now the score was settled. John Lundquist lived to murder his own nephew, Raymond Widell, with a shotgun in 1927.

The day Pete punished John Lundquist, he had been to Cambridge where he bought a horse for my father. He was a dark gray bronco about 1100 pounds. Pete named the horse Rowdy because of the fight.Β [Rowdy] was an unusual horse with a horseshoe brand. He was shipped in with a carload of broncos which were auctioned off in a corral behind the Arlington Hotel in Cambridge. Rowdy never needed breaking, he was very fast and gentle, and he was our pet buggy horse. I rode Rowdy bareback an awful lot, and used him to haul the eggs and cream to Stanly Store and Creamery. Our family loved this horse and used him sensibly although he would start from home and run all the way to Cambridge, but this he did because he loved to run. He lived with us for 28 years and was in good health when my father retired him. He did no more work, but ran in the pasture and enjoyed himself.

My great-grandfather continued with a pretty amazing memory:

“I remember when Russell [my great-grandfather’s brother] was an infant and Mother helped with the chores, she would put Russell in Rowdy’s manger while she worked and [Rowdy] would play with [Russell] with evident pleasure.”

Evident pleasure. Those two words alone explain the loving relationship between Rowdy and the family – and the fact that my great-great-grandmother entrusted her baby to the care of their beloved horse while she worked. Can you imagine?

This story has touched everyone in my family, especially when we found Rowdy’s stall and manger still intact in the old barn. As I took the pictures below, I imagined little Russell being entertained by the 1100 pound Rowdy in the manger of hay.

My family and I also found a sketch of a horse head in the granary. Could this sketch be of Rowdy? I like to think so.

Horse Drawing

At the end of my great-grandfather’s memoir, he wrote:

A final note on Rowdy: When Rowdy became too old to enjoy life, my father hired an uncle of mine to take Rowdy away from the farm and shoot and bury him. The general practice at this time was to sell horses to the fox farms where they were fed to the foxes and, of course, [my father] did not want this to happen. This was in 1928 and I happened to come to Cambridge at the time so Uncle Henry told me about it. I still have precious memories of Rowdy as he really was a great friend of my boyhood.

EPSON MFP image
Roy Falk and Rowdy

Even though I have never personally owned a horse, my dream of doing so has never waned. Why? I have no idea, but I can’t get the yearning out of my heart. What is it that makes horses so special?Β It could be their large eyes that seem to bare their souls, or the gentle nudge they give you when you walk beside them as if they’re saying “Thanks for being here.” Maybe it’s the strength, warmth, and connection you feel as you sit atop their broad backs, or the way they run to you from the other side of the field to say “Hello!” I hope that one day my family will own a horse or two so that I can take that bareback ride into the sunset. If my daughter has anything to do with it, the horse will come sooner than later.

Keira on Horse Fence

I want to ask you, dear readers, what is it about horses that captures our hearts? If you have insight into this question, please comment. If you have a horse story to tell, I’d love to read it.

Erin with Horse

 

 

20 Replies to “The Horse: Why Do They Continue To Capture Our Hearts?”

  1. We are very fortunate to have you as a family writer. Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!

    1. It is my pleasure, truly! Thank YOU for reading and supporting my writing. xoxo

  2. angelanoelauthor says: Reply

    I had nowhere near the same access to horses as you describe with your summers at your Great uncle’s farm. But, as a child I loved them. I asked for Breyer horses for every Christmas and birthday. I never played with dolls, just these horses. I asked for birthday parties to be at the closest horse ranch an hour drive from our home in California.
    I cried when horses were hurt in movies before I understood that they weren’t REALLY being shot or breaking their legs.
    I think they’re very special creatures with personalities as varied as humans. They play and love, are curious and sometimes naughty. I don’t have the history at my fingertips, but I wonder about the co-evolution of people and horses. Even the Clan of the Cave Bear Series (though fictional, obviously) suggested to me that humans may have befriended these animals (or they befriended us) fairly early in our ancestry. Maybe our DNA is coded somehow with affinity for each other after millennia of mutual dependence?
    But whatever the reason, I couldn’t agree more. They’re wonderful. And we humans are better for knowing them.

    1. I love your thought on DNA and mutual dependence, Angela! And, Just as you mentioned the connection in Clan of the Cave Bear, I saw a connection, when I was young, between horses and Native Americans. Because of this, I grew up wishing I could have lived like the Native Americans lived long ago. The relationship they had with horses was not only on a need-based level, but one with deep connections also. Dances With Wolves was a movie I watched over and over again, wishing I could be Stands With A Fist. I even wrote books (that I still have) about Native Americans and horses. πŸ™‚

  3. Carol Akerson Eggert says: Reply

    Great writing about your love of horses. Enjoyed it so much!

    1. Thank you very much, Carol! I’m sure you know all about the connections between people and horses. <3

  4. 🐴 I enjoyed your writing about horses!
    They are truely a beautiful animal 🐎

    1. Thank you so very much! <3

  5. I had very limited access to horses growing up even though we had the acreage around the house. Nonetheless, I still vividly recall the name and immediate connection I made with the horse (Watchfob) that I rode during an isolated riding lesson. It was an amazing experience, and it is no surprise that both you and your daughter (adorable photos btw) enjoy such meaningful relationships with horses.
    Loved this post!

  6. As you know from a previous post of mine I am not a horse person. Having said that Erin, I still love your post and enjoyed viewing the older photos. Great story!!

    1. Thank you so much for reading and taking the time to comment! πŸ™‚

  7. A friend of mine has horses and is finally thinking about selling them. She’s in her 70s and hasn’t ridden for a while, but it’s still a hard thing for her to contemplate. I shall be sorry, because the manure from the muck heap has done wonders for my garden.

  8. I think it’s that, unlike dogs, they’ve never needed us. Dogs clearly benefit from their association with humanity and do surprisingly little work for their reward. Horses never needed what we offer, so to have been tamed at all they must have seen something in us. It’s humbling, too, looking into those big eyes and knowing this animal could kick up his heels and leave you behind forever but chooses to stay. They’ve carried us and our burdens for thousands of years and been faithful companions besides, yet there’s always that quiet dignity of the willing servant, never the slave.

    Or maybe it’s just that they’re huge and furry and smell better than cows.

    1. You make very valid points! I love your point: “Horses never needed what we offer, so to have been tamed at all they must have seen something in us.” Maybe this thought goes both ways. πŸ™‚ And yes, horses do smell better than cows! lol Thanks so much for taking the time to read and comment! x

  9. I love it! It makes Grandpa come alive every time I read something about him! What a great man!

    1. Thanks, Sheila! Loved this topic.

    2. Thanks so much, Sheila. πŸ™‚

  10. Bevery Nelson says: Reply

    Thanks to my nephew, I just discovered that you are now “coaching” your 4th cousin! It is indeed a small world. And today because Carol’s post on facebook, I got to read many of Roy’s notes again. Carol did a great job with them. I’ve loved his story for well over 20 years. Loved seeing Grandpa Henry’s picture online. Being related to both West and Falk families, the farm is really special for us also. Many thanks for your writings. Bev Nelson

    1. Hi, Bev! Thanks so much for reading and taking the time to touch bases. Yes, it is a small world. And, I’m still in disbelief in all of the connections that we continue to make thanks to Great-Grandfather’s writings and the farm. I couldn’t believe when my mom came to my daughter’s soccer game and said, “I think that is Barbara over there! She is related to Henry West. Barbara and her sister Bev came to the farm earlier this year.” Again, another awesome connection. And yes, to think that I’m coaching a distant cousin. How fun!

    2. Also, Carol did a fantastic job writing Great-Grandfather’s memoirs. They have been so much fun to read and study. Hopefully we all can meet up at the farm sometime soon! Thanks again for taking the time to comment, Bev! So nice to make another family connection. πŸ™‚

I love to read comments from my readers - please share your thoughts!

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.