KICKED FROM COMPLACENCY

KICKED FROM COMPLACENCY

By Tom Gumbrecht

We've all had it drilled into us: "Don't stand behind that horse, don't walk too close to that horse, don't pass so near to that horse, you'll get kicked! We find ourselves repeating the same doctrine to novices and people whose horse sense we are unsure of.

Lola's racing days. Were there things from
her past that she couldn't tell me about?

We also develop a sixth sense about the horses under our care: we get a picture of a horse's emotional condition beginning at dawn when we flip on the barn lights and walk by his stall. Is he calm? Still groggy from sleep and not alert? Concerned? Agitated? Scared? A horse tells us with his ears, eyes, and body just which version of him we will be dealing with that day, and we gauge our interactions with him accordingly. 

But sometimes, complacency can set it. At least I've found that to be true, especially with a horse that we've known for a long time, and formed a close bond with. It might start out as a small transgression, such as crawling halfway under a horse to paint a hoof rather than getting up and walking around to the other side. If anyone else is in attendance, we might throw out a disclaimer, "You should never do what you see me doing right now," as our actions belie our words.

So it was with Lola, the Thoroughbred mare we had acquired two weeks off of the

Lola, the sweetheart of the herd,
still feels her oats.

racetrack where an injury had ended her promising career. During her lengthy rehabilitation and recovery period, we formed a bond and mutual trust that was unbreakable. That trust was hard-won and very real, but I was probably just a little more conscious of my movements around Lola than with our other horses. Any quick hand or arm movement around her or over-zealous use of a manure fork in her stall had the potential of causing her lightening-quick reflexes to send her retreating smartly backwards into the stall wall. There were things in her past, it seemed, that she was unable to tell me about.

We knew a lot of things about each other, and made allowances for them; that's what enabled our relationship to work. I never thought of her as difficult, but she was very sensitive. Lola may not have been 100% trusting of anyone, but from what I observed in nine years caring for, training and riding her, there was no other human that she trusted more. She would give the boss mare, Bella, a very wide berth and back down in any situation that had even the potential of conflict, her strides being very tentative. With me by her side though, she would confidently prance right past her, ears forward, with a purposeful stride. Sometimes I would chuckle to myself that maybe she had a little too much faith in me; Bella could easily take us both out if she ever had the mind to.

Lola's stall, the scene of the crime.
Mine, not hers.

One recent evening after returning home at around 9:00 pm, I headed out to the barn to put the horses in for the night. I switched on the paddock lights, and Lola meandered over and made her way past me and into her still darkened stall, like she always does. As she passed, I noticed something on her underside, maybe a small burr, and instinctively reached out to touch it, forgetting for a moment that I had placed myself beyond the scope of her peripheral vision. My next recollection was of a wrenching pain in my gut, a blinding light as my eyes were looking straight up into the paddock floodlights and a sharp, hard thud that was my head hitting the ground. For the first time in eighteen years around horses, I had taken a kick! I next had a unique view of what a horse looks like when she is jumping, from the point of view of the jump. Lola bolted out of the stall and jumped over me in her hasty exit, being mercifully careful in where she placed her feet. Or lucky. I got myself up and tried to make sense of what had happened. There was blood all over my left hand and as the shock wore off I started to hurt everywhere. It took me a while to get the horses in after the commotion, especially Lola, who had retreated to the far corner of the paddock and needed to be coaxed and reassured that there would be no repercussions to her fear-based reaction. All of her movements were now very jerky and tentative as if she were waiting to be punished. I lingered by her stall door for a long while before turning away from her, and only then did she cautiously approach and put her head out and bury her nose in my chest. It's ok, girl. Your body reacted totally on instinct which is a part of your blood and bones. And I know better. No hard feelings.

After I had made my way up to the house to be checked over by my wife Mary, a nurse

Someday, young Daniel, I'll tell you all  about
your pal Lola, when she was known as
One Precious Gem.

by profession, I went to bed but although I was very tired, sleep would not come. What kept me awake was not the fear of playing out "what if" scenarios, but rather an intense feeling of gratitude. The last few months, I have been exposing my two year old grandson, Daniel, to the wonders of horses, to the delight of all humans and equines concerned. It occurred to me that I had at some point started thinking of our horses as big teddy bears, and perhaps unconsciously transmitting that attitude with the best of intentions but the carelessness of familiarity. I was very grateful that it was me that paid the price for that lapse in judgment, and not Daniel. It was a very small price to pay for an important and timely refresher course. They are not teddy bears. They are horses.

The fact is that I had frightened Lola and she responded the way frightened horses do. Then she laid low for awhile, then allowed me to walk her back to her stall, and when she thought it was safe, came and expressed affection. I am grateful because Lola teaches me how to be: there was an overreaction to stimulus, a retreat to regroup, then a making of amends. I had to wonder, if this had been a human-human interaction, would it have been resolved so quickly and amicably?

A JOB WITH BENEFITS

A JOB WITH BENEFITS           

Originally published in Horse Directory,  July 2015

By Tom Gumbrecht

I’ll be 62 this month. For some, that means thoughts of retirement, but for me, being self-employed, not so much. I enjoy my work anyway. Still, it has fostered thoughts of what life will be like when the aging process continues it's slow erosion of a body whose work and recreation have been of the physical kind. I've been lucky in that regard, so far.

Sometimes the physical demands of horsekeeping
can be great.

Keeping horses is a physical endeavor, and each year the demands are a little greater, no doubt exacerbated by the harsher winters we seem to have been experiencing. The winter chores are the most difficult, and can seem at times to be an un-winnable battle.

The prospect of one day being on a fixed income brings other concerns about sustaining a horsey lifestyle. Even owning the facilities and doing all of the work ourselves, it's still a significant expense. We've moved on from competing regularly and although we still train, it's for the continual development of horse and rider rather than the clear goals of competition. We do take the horses to the park for trail rides as time and weather permit, but it seems that most of what we do consists of horse care and farm maintenance.

That's the side of the story as might be told by a financial planner, but as we all know, there's more to it than that, and another kind of cost/ benefit analysis:

 I have a reason to wake up early each day. The first hour of every day is spent in a tranquil environment where I am gently but enthusiastically greeted by soft nickers and soft eyes that say “welcome.”

It's said that there is much peace to be found in organization and routine, and that may be part of the reason that I feel so peaceful in the barn. It is one area of my life that is well organized and the routine is familiar.

Much is said about the benefits of living life from the point of view of gratitude; it's kind of the latest pop-psych buzzword. Our barn is a world filled with mutual gratitude that is clearly expressed when I take the

The author, Samantha and DannyBoy introduce
grandbaby Daniel to the world of horses

time to listen. Intentions are clear, and there are no hidden agendas. Actions are the main tools of communication and words are unnecessary. The is no ambiguity here. What you see is what you get. Relationships are easy when you always know where you stand.

I was able to uncover a hidden passion for horses that transcended riding, not to downplay that part. But I discovered within me certain qualities, a patience, a teach-ability if you will, and the willingness to care for ill and injured horses. When a human is sick or injured, my immediate reaction is to call someone equipped to handle it, and take the role of support staff. When an animal is injured, my reaction us to jump in immediately, do what I can, and call for help later if needed. Are my priorities misplaced? I don't know. Theses are qualities that have surfaced that I seem to have been born with, so I attempt to make the most of them.

It's a nice thing to start and end each day with the feeling of accomplishment of clear needs squarely met. It helps to balance the frustrations that daily life and business can sometimes bring. People make extensive plans to attend spiritual retreats in order to connect more closely with a Higher Power, God, the Great Spirit, the Universe or whatever name we wish to give a power greater than ourselves. I have the privilege of living such a retreat daily, at least for a few hours.

Those are some of the line items on my cost/ benefit analysis, understood fully by those fluent in the language of the heart that is spoken in the barn.

Knowing that the horses are securely tucked
in gives a warm feeling.

RESIST NOT CHANGE

“RESIST NOT CHANGE”

By Tom Gumbrecht               Originally published in Horse Directory Magazine, June 2015

The list of uncomfortable changes that I've gone through in my life with horses is an extensive one. To the casual observer, it might seem like some really bad luck in copious quantities. Here are a few highlights:

Circus gave the author many firsts,
including his first unintentional dismount.

The first seems so minor now, but it felt like a big deal when it happened. I began riding at a lesson/ show barn. I enjoyed my lessons and free riding on the flat, but I kept exploring the far reaches of the property during cool-down, secretly always wanting to canter the vineyards across the street. I finally talked my trainer into taking me over there, and within the first minute my horse got spooked and after a bad spin I hit the ground and my horse high-tailed it back to the barn, crossing an active roadway in the process. I emerged from my first unintentional dismount ok physically, as was the horse, but I was riddled with guilt for having pushed and pushed to do something that ultimately put a horse in danger. I vowed to never leave the safety of the property again.

The next episode was a tough one. I had slowly become part of the horse culture, if not yet the show culture, of the wonderful barn where I had learned to ride. It was my first exposure to a barn family and I was accepted into it. Life was good. And one day it all changed when the owners made the decision to relocate out of state. The farm was sold as a non-horse property and the horse facilities were dismantled. My comfort zone and new-found barn family just evaporated. My riding life was over.

In another instance I found myself in a rough board situation, sharing a horse with a very experienced owner who no longer rode. I had almost unlimited access to a really good horse, a wealth of knowledge at my fingertips and magnificent trails on an adjoining preserve that no one else used or even knew about, for the price of some hay. All this within 10 minutes of my western Long Island workplace! It seemed to be too good to be true, and I guess it was. There developed some conflict at this little barn that ultimately made the arrangement unworkable. With a heavy heart I had to say goodbye to what seemed like paradise.

The first horse I ever actually owned was perfect for me. He had a great personality, and was older and

Buddy, the first horse owned by the
author, seen with mom Helen..

tolerated my frequent gaffes and miscues with aplomb. Although a senior, he still had plenty of spunk and gave me just enough of a challenge to make our rides interesting without being dangerous. We rode for three years when he got sick and could no longer be ridden. His illness was all-consuming, emotionally and financially. It felt like being on a roller coaster: the highs reached with short-lived improvements and the lows terrifying with more setbacks.

Our second horse was a stalwart. She was, dependable, healthy, honest and fun. Always there, always up for anything and a great baby-sitter. A senior also, she brightened our days for four years, when she had a bad colic and was gone within several days of taking ill. It seemed as if our dreams were star-crossed.

A point came sometime later where I had gained enough experience and confidence to enter the world of horse showing. In the small world of eventing on Long Island, I had acquired a courageous horse with a natural talent that we developed with the help of a trainer and did well in the lower levels over two years or so. Unexplainably he injured his suspensory ligament and had to have surgery which put him, and me, out of the

DannyBoy with the author at an early eventing show.

show ring for 18 months. If it weren't for bad luck, it seemed I wouldn't have any.

My focus was diverted to a side project at one point, and myself and another person planned to try our hand at procuring an OTTB at auction, retraining and showing the horse and selling it before picking up another in a small effort to give some ex-racehorses a new start. A magnificent plan which fell apart 24 hours after we picked up our first one at New Holland. The following day the drugs that had apparently been given to this very recently off the track mare, wore off revealing an injury that would have her incapacitated indefinitely. My project partner was understandably not up for this level of challenge so I found myself in way over my head and alone. It was beginning to look like I should have perhaps taken up a different sport. But things are not always how they initially seem…

So here is, as Paul Harvey used to say, the rest of the story:

The incident in the vineyard did not lead to never leaving the supposed safety of the riding ring again. Instead, it enticed me to find a different and safe venue to explore trail riding. While still learning to be a better technical rider on my leased horse at the farm, I would supplement that with weekly (or more) trail rides at a local hack stable. I learned to ride many different horses under many different conditions and met a lot of people who shared my enthusiasm.

The closing of my home barn set into motion a creative quest to stay connected to horses in some way. That

Magic was dependable, brought comic relief and
gave us our first lesson in letting go.

led to the rough board situation where I learned from an expert, how to care for a horse’s needs in addition to riding. This was experience that would become invaluable later. A short time after I was forced to end that situation, I resignedly answered an ad in the newspaper seeking volunteers for a local therapeutic riding program, simply as a way to, again, stay connected. What I got was much more. I experienced another side of the horse world where horses were the teachers, counselors and therapists. I again expanded my network and made what have become lifelong friends. I was reintroduced to formal training through renewed contacts from my first barn who had resurfaced, and joined some of them at a local HJ barn where I proceeded to pursue my dream of becoming a jumper rider.

The difficult loss of relationships with horses, and its effect on me, prompted my wife to suggest that I get my own horse. I expanded on that to include getting our own barn and she went along with it! That's in effect how Dreamcatcher Farm got started.

My first horse’s illness was devastating for him, inconvenient for me. When I finally was able to see things that way, I was able to use the skills I had learned at the rough board barn to keep him comfortable and nurse him back to health. That was a long journey but along the way I became a horseman. I learned how to not give up when situations looked dire.

But I needed another lesson. I needed to learn when and how to let go, and our second horse, the mare, taught me that hard lesson. That there was a difference between giving up and releasing with love. Later, the untimely injury of my event horse allowed me to spend a lot of time just being with him. He was (and is) a take-charge kind of guy, and although we worked very well on course together, he was not an easy horse to bond with. Hour-long leg treatments, wrapping and handwalking every day for many months provided that opportunity and provided valuable experience for what would become my next challenge.

Lola, not long before she landed at the author's stable.

The lofty dreams I had for my beautiful, muscular ex-racehorse were dashed when the veterinarian confirmed our fears of a serious front leg injury. I felt as if I was between a rock and a hard place, and I didn't know if I could willingly take on a situation as grave as this. Yet the alternatives seemed to be to misrepresent and re-sell her as had been done to me, or euthanasia, and I wasn't willing to consider either. As I wasn't able to fathom the level of commitment that I would need to muster, I just took things a day at a time. And a day at a time we worked, and we bonded; we were jubilant with small victories and crushed by setbacks. We asked for help when we were in over our heads, which was frequently. And she got better, and I got better. She didn't know much except the racetrack, and how to be a good horse, but that ended up being enough. We got trained to train her, and we did. And we got to ultimately be the person in the irons when she trotted into the show ring in front of the first crowd since the one at her last racetrack. That remains my most cherished ribbon.

Through her and all of the others I found my little niche in the horse world. It wasn't bad luck forcing situations upon me, it was the universe opening doors that I would not have otherwise known were there. The thing is, I wouldn't have chosen any of these situations had I been given the option. Were they good things or bad things? Neither. They were necessary things. Necessary in order to bring me to the point where I am now, which is prepared for unknown opportunities already on their way.

Even though I seem to not always remember it very well, things work much better for me when I live my life in preparation for something better to come.

HORSES AT HOME

HORSES AT HOME                  

                                                                  Originally published in Horse Directory,  May 2015

By Tom Gumbrecht

Should I keep my horse at home? Many horse owners have considered that question at some point in their horsey lives.

To those expecting an in-depth analysis of the financial and practical pros and cons of keeping horses at home, I apologize. You won't find that here. I am a fairly practical person in other areas of life, but when it comes to horses, practical is not the first adjective that would come to the mind of most in describing me. This is just a story about my very unlikely journey from a green-as-grass newbie to a rider, horse owner and barn owner.

Dreamcatcher Farm.. before the bulldozers

 When I was first introduced to horses and riding at age 45, I had been through a few hobbies already. I was a private pilot at age 20, captained my own sailboat at age 29, and was into semi-extreme off roading at age 42. I had always jumped into my pursuits with both feet, became completely immersed in them, reached a certain level of competency and then began looking for the next challenge.  I didn't plan it that way, but that's the way it always seemed to happen.

I experienced probably all of the frustrations that an adult beginner experiences, sometimes thinking that it would be prudent to just give up, but I never seriously considered that.  I investigated many disciplines along the way in an effort to find my niche. I met jumpers, hunters, trail riders, reiners, barrel racers, dressage riders and most seemed to have found their way in the horse world. They were pleasure riders, competitors, those seeking to experience their personal best with their equine partner. Some no longer rode at all, and just enjoyed the social atmosphere of the barn, and the bonding that takes place while hand grazing and grooming and just being with their horsey friend. I could identify with all of them, but since all of my acquaintances at that time were boarders at commercial barns, I had never met many people who had the aspirations that I did: to have my own barn and have horses at home.

Oddly, this wasn't a dream that built up slowly over time.  I realized it as soon as it seemed that my interest in horses was more than a passing fancy. It was reinforced when, several months into my training and to the shock of my friends and family, it seemed quite sensible for me to lease my first horse. Still, the idea of owning a horse property on Long Island seemed unattainable. Then, something else happened.

 

Riding ring base going in.

About a year and a half after my arrival at the barn, it was announced that it would be closing in a couple of months, being sold to a non-horsey purchaser, and the owners were moving out of state. The owners, touting the climate and value of the area they were moving to, sent me listings of horse properties in the area. While relocating was not a real possibility, my interest had been piqued, and at this time the real estate business was beginning to have a big presence on the internet. Looking at properties, once an arduous process of endless rides with agents on weekends, had now been streamlined to the point where one could sift through a hundred or more properties or more in a single evening on the couch. And so it was that I began a “just for fun” search for horse properties on Long Island.  After meeting an agent who was also a horseman, the idea was planted to search for, rather than established horse facilities, properties zoned for horses and properly laid out to accommodate a barn, paddocks and riding ring that we would build ourselves.

Beginning to look like a barn..

Being in the construction trades, the prospect of such a project was not daunting; rather it was kind of exciting. We made a list of things we needed to have and things that we wanted to have and within a couple of months found a place that met just about all of our requirements. What started out as not much more than a lark, ended up in the realization that by doing a large amount of the work ourselves, we could actually have a horse property in western Suffolk County, Long Island while still being within reasonable commuting of our jobs in Nassau County. And we did buy it, and build it, and so was born Dreamcatcher Farm.

This summer will mark the seventeenth year from the time that I rode my first horse, and this fall the fifteenth year since we bought the property. There have been many challenges that we have faced since then, but the underlying theme for our experiences here has been, quoting from the movie Field of Dreams, “If you build it, they will come.” Many incredible people have come into our lives since we created our little farm, and I remain convinced that raising a family in the company of horses is how I was meant to live my life.

 

Buddy, the first resident of Dreamcatcher Farm.. on his first day!

In working with horses, I have found my proper place. I'm no longer looking for the next challenge because each horse presents a new challenge on each new day.  I have been a farm hand, a student, a competitor, a teacher, a groom, a physical therapist and a nurse. I have smiled much and cried some.  On the practical side, it has allowed me to keep three horses at once, which I could not do in a commercial boarding situation. Why three, non-horse people seem to always ask? Simple: the up and coming youngster, the dependable and confident middle-aged guy, and the one who has done it all and is now mostly retired. I love being able to jump on a horse and ride, having the flexibility to work with a young horse and having the ability to care for a senior.  I love them all for some of the same reasons and some different reasons.

Is keeping horses at home for everyone? I’m sure it isn't. I probably get to ride less than my friends who board, but in my case it was the path that I was always drawn to follow. It ended up being the right path for me. But, assuming that most people who keep horses at home don't employ staff to provide the support and care for them, it is a major lifestyle change, and commitment. Some can't provide that level of commitment, other won't, but for me it just seemed to fit perfectly. It can be a lot of work but as the saying goes, if you’re doing something you love, you won't work a day in your life.

At this point, I have amassed many thousands of days that begin and end with caring for horses. Since the beginning, that has always been the best part of most of those days…

 

"If you build it, they will come".. The author with Buddy,
and a young Sam with Magic.

POWER IT FORWARD

Power It Forward                            

Originally published in Horse Directory Magazine ,  November 2014

By Tom Gumbrecht

The years from 2008 to 2011 were challenging ones for the construction industry on Long Island, and our electrical contracting business was no exception. In creating a new specialty division to respond to a changing economy and marketplace, we named the company Thoroughbred Power Systems in honor of our OTTB mare Lola, who, injured and having landed at the New Holland auction, had beaten the odds.  She refused to give up and inspired all of us with her positive attitude and zest for life.

How it works: Lola provides the
inspiration, client donates used generator,
we prep, sell and deliver it, all funds go
to Amaryllis as Ever a Friend and
Christine Distefano look on, unwanted
horses thrive for another day.

When our main business began almost thirty years ago, we had dreams and goals and we thought we could do things a little better. But out of stark necessity, it was mostly about making a living.  In our new little endeavor, we still needed to earn a living but had something else also.. we had a mission.  Our mission was clear: to help unwanted horses; to reach out and provide assistance to the discarded equine athletes, but how to accomplish that mission?

Usually, providing assistance to a cause on an institutional level evokes thoughts of charities, non-profits, rules and regulations, tons of paperwork and asking for money… none of which is my forte.  I’m not a great administrator and am much better with hands-on stuff.  It seemed like the skills available were at odds with the skills needed; then something happened.

Heading to the airport for a training trip to Wisconsin, I blindly grabbed a book off the shelf to read on the plane.  By happy accident the book was “Start Something That Matters” by Blake Mycoskie, the TOMS Shoes guy.  I couldn’t put it down because every point I was struggling with was addressed in his book.  He detailed how fate had conspired to focus his energies and create a for-profit company with a charitable mission which we now know as TOMS which makes shoes and sells them at a profit and donates a pair to a third world country for every pair sold.

DannyBoy oversees preparations
for the sale of a donated generator.

Well, Thoroughbred Power Systems is local, not global.  But the concept that Mycoskie opened our eyes to gave clarity and validation to the concept we had been toying with but had no real model for: having a for-profit company making money doing what we do best and a charitable mission funded by a portion of those profits as opposed to asking people for money.  In the book, I read about some other things that encouraged me:   

     1) “Finding your story”: find what you are passionate about, whatever it is for you that makes work feel like play, where no effort is too great to see it through (luckily, I had found my story)

    2) You don’t have to have a lot of money to have a mission, but the mission should be clear and simple (I qualify on both counts, lol!)

    3) Blake was a horseman (instant credibility!)

By the time I was returning from that trip, my plans had crystallized and my path was more clear.  I knew I was on the right track, and hopefully the details would unfold through a process of trial and error. Our idea was to set aside a fixed amount for each standby generator system sold, and use it to help Long Island horses in need. The funds would have to be administered by a trusted third party, because time and space limit our hands-on rescue work to one at a time. I wanted to work with a legitimate non-profit organization who accepted local horses, run by people with a caring heart and a good work ethic. I wanted an organization recognized by charity rating services, one whose accounting was totally transparent and with very low administrative costs.  I wanted a rescue which didn’t rely heavily on foster homes as a long term solution, one who cared for the horses in-house and was proactive about getting them re-homed.  I wanted a rescue that was able to provide sanctuary for those horses that were not adoptable.

A tall order perhaps, but I knew that without these assurances my enthusiasm would not be sustainable, and

Lola makes sure that every new unit sold results
in a donation to her friends at Amaryllis.

I definitely wanted to be in it long-term. I remembered a rescue in the Hamptons called Amaryllis; they were very kind and appreciative when I donated leftover meds after I lost my first horse Buddy.  I got to know founder Christine Distefano, read her blogs and posts and felt I had found a kindred spirit.  I did my homework researching Amaryllis, and our little “caring partnership” was formed.

As our program evolved, the donations from generator sales, while not insignificant, became almost secondary to another program which had not even been anticipated.  There was a significant segment of clients who already had standby generators but who wanted to upgrade them due to age, availability of new technology, or increased power demands.  The question arose as to what to do with an older but serviceable standby generator; installation costs generally preclude reselling a used unit as part of an installed system and the lack of a factory warranty makes it unappealing to most potential buyers.  Private sales can prove troublesome and the sheer weight and size of many units make rigging and transportation costly, effectively negating much of the potential savings gained with a used unit.

It was out of this dilemma that was born the program we dubbed “Power it Forward.” Under this program, the client is given the opportunity to donate the old unit to our 501c3 horse rescue partner, Amaryllis. If they agree, we remove the unit from the client’s premises and bring it to our facility where we check it over, functionally test it and list it for sale locally. We handle the sale and sometimes even the delivery to a market of largely do-it-yourselfers and antique equipment buffs. 100% of the proceeds of the sale go to the rescue and the client who donated the generator gets credit for the donation. As for us.. we get to feel good. We get to love our work, work for what we love, and make a small positive impact on the horse world.. all at the same time.  Interestingly, we thought this program would appeal to mainly horse people, but in reality almost all of our donors have been non-horsey.  Most people are happy to know that an asset that they have outgrown is doing some good for someone else.

Valentine Daisy, an injured racehorse like Lola, with
Rachel Distefano of Amaryllis. Who would have thought that
her life could have been made better by an unwanted generator?
Power It Forward!

Last year, Amaryllis founder Christine Distefano described the program this way: “Disabled horses have no hope in this world. ‘Power It Forward’ aims to change that, one horse at a time. Pioneering the way, Tom has quickly become a light in the dark despair that a horse unable to earn his keep any longer experiences. Helping horses who once helped others is what ‘Power It Forward’ does.”

Well, thanks Christine, but you guys are the ones doing all the work, I happen to have a penchant for moving heavy things, some generous clients willing to work with me on this mission, a good idea or two and a Thoroughbred ex-racehorse named Lola whose attitude toward life inspires us daily to be better humans.

PHASES

PHASES     

Originally published in Horse Directory  July, 2014

By Tom Gumbrecht

I paused to reflect today, Father's Day, after sharing a short ride with the child I've shared all of my horsey accomplishments with. She has her own child now, so we are entering a new phase of life around Dreamcatcher Farm. It occurred to me that just like the rest of my life, my horse life has had many phases. They seem distinct when viewed separately but mostly they have been woven by time into a fabric that provides the backdrop of my horse life.

Lola greets Daniel to her world, with new mom Sam..

The beginning phase was really just being exposed to horses, in my case as a middle-aged adult, and feeling that unmistakable pull that I perhaps didn't really understand but can now spot instantly when I see it happening in others.

For me, you might say that the next phase was obsession. The pull of horses was at it's peak, and all attempts to maintain the illusion of self-control were fruitless. Every spare moment, it seemed, was spent learning about or experiencing things horsey. Friends were starting to wonder...

A couple of years later I guess I dove in head first and took my family with me. We sold our house in a small beach community that we had made just how we wanted, and started over in a much older home with some land in a horse friendly area not far away. We built a barn, a ring and paddocks and adopted our first horse, followed by another soon after. Non-horse people that we knew were polite, but quietly concerned now.

The author assumes a new duty at the farm.

The years leading up to being horse- and barn-owners were filled with lessons designed so that we could find our niche, which for Samantha and I ended up being jumpers and eventing. After getting our first horses and building the barn, I took a little break from lessons, focusing mainly on fun stuff like trail rides, group events, costume rides... things that answered the call of any excuse to get on a horse and go. I don't really remember if I thought that I was done with lessons or not, at the time. But this phase was really just another lesson.  "Time in the saddle is what you need now," my first instructor had told me.  By the time I owned a barn and some horses, I thought that I was past that phase, but really I was smack in the middle of it.

As Sam's riding progressed and she became engaged in competition on her own horse, my focus shifted to supporting her riding, while riding  enough to keep my own legs and horses in shape, more or less.  During that time we also did some equine trekking both here and abroad. But mostly that phase was characterized by trekking to lessons several times a week, and weekend horse shows with the alarm screaming its demand for a 4:00 am wakeup. That era ended with her leaving for college, with my duties then diminished to transporting her horse halfway across the country twice a year, and attempts at encouragement via text message.

During this time I entered a phase that I would have skipped if given the choice, but that would have been an unfortunate series of lessons to miss out on. My own horse became severely ill, and I learned that the road to wellness for a sick horse is very much a partnership between owner and the veterinary team. It was a sometimes frightening, sometime crushing and other times rewarding emotional roller coaster that I was learning to ride in my reluctant pursuit of horsemanship, as opposed to merely riding. These were skills and a temperament that I would need desperately in the future that was yet to unfold.

As my sick horse, Buddy, got better, it became evident that he would be serving a purpose other than riding, going forward. We acquired a younger horse and began training once again. Buddy took on the role of teaching an arrogant young gelding some manners, and he was well suited to his new role. Meanwhile, I found that I had missed those early morning wakeups and the excitement of competition that I had been backstage for up until now. The time seemed right to take the stage myself, and so I did. We enjoyed a couple of years of moderate success at the lower levels of eventing and jumpers, and moreover discovered an array of tools to combat things like stage fright and frustration and learned the value of goal setting to accomplish more that we would have thought ourselves capable of. I carried these tools out of the arena with me, and they made a positive difference in my personal and professional life.

All of the things, physical and mental, that I had learned to that point were called upon when my next challenge was to be faced: the rehabilitation and subsequent retraining of a racehorse who we had adopted and who ended up having been injured just two weeks prior to our taking her home under circumstances where her history and condition had been masked and not accurately communicated. Although frustrated, we had all of the tools available, including the somewhat newly honed ability to know when to ask for help.  In doing so, we found our real niche in the horse world which enabled us to experience the rewards of teaching a horse to do something completely different from what she had been trained to do, made possible by finding the right mentor from whom to learn those skills.  I found that my most cherished ribbon was the one we had earned in a class that I had trained her for myself.  

We wind up now, back at the point where we had started: with the reason for this little mental exercise and trot down memory lane, a little one-month old boy named Daniel. The child of the child we hauled to all of those horse shows. I can't wait to tell him everything that I have learned about horses. Will he be interested? Maybe he will, and maybe he won't. 

But maybe he will...

BREAKING FREE

BREAKING FREE:

How a Horse Delivered Me From the Bondage of Self

By Tom Gumbrecht                                                                                                                                                                                                                    Originally published in Horse Directory,  June, 2014

There is a quotation penned on the whiteboard of our barn, or more accurately, a derivation of one written by someone named Lao Tzu that reads. “He who conquers others is strong; he who conquers himself is mighty.” I had read this before, but it took a long time for me to begin to understand it and I’m certain I still don’t, fully. When I began to understand it is when I put it up on the board, because of its importance to my training (and my life) and how my horses helped me to understand it.

The author with DannyBoy at Equus Valley Horse Trials

I first thought that conquering self was about only self-control, about discipline, about will power. For me, the idea developed further into being about the deconstruction of the image of self that I had created. That image existed in my mind and it was a handsome one, but not terribly accurate. It consisted mainly of who I thought I was, or who thought I could have been if not for the endless obstacles placed in my path by others. I worked on maintaining the image, and it could have possibly existed forever if I had never been exposed to a horse.

I was gifted not especially with talent, but with an almost insatiable appetite for learning when it came to my middle-aged introduction to horses.  I had two trainers at the same time (perhaps would not do that again), rode at literally every opportunity and bought and read every book from every horse trainer, rider, clinician, and horsey philosopher I could find. And still, excellence eluded me. What I became was confused.

In other areas of life, I had become a master of the concept of “fake it ‘til you make it.” In some pursuits, that’s not necessarily a bad thing. Acquire some concepts, some jargon and some contacts, let that open a few doors, gain some exposure and acceptance and pick up knowledge through osmosis.  Not so with horses, I was to find out. You can’t fake it with a horse (unless, of course, the horse is in on it) and thereby lay the source of my frequent frustration.  I can present the best façade imaginable, one that may work wonders with some humans and yet the horse would see right past them. The horse, I was to find, responds only to the true self, the true me.  My hope for anything modestly resembling success on horseback required that I first acknowledge, accept, and become familiar with my true self.

I had to turn my gaze inward. Much of what I had yet to learn did not exist in books and found that I didn’t

The author with DannyBoy, leaning to let
go and let the horse do his job.

need to study and master the intellectual concepts of my lessons.  Rather I needed feel them in my fingertips, my calves, my heel, my seat.  My legs would remember what my brain could not comprehend.  It was a new way to learn, and at times frightening.  I had sought to master the horse, and now the horse was my teacher.  My ego, which I assumed had bolstered the little bit of professional recognition I had managed to acquire, was no longer an attribute.  In fact it was a liability, because the horse did not acknowledge or respond to it. The horse knew the real me, and was waiting for me to honestly present it. Perhaps that was the frightening part..

A point came where I found myself struggling with lessons from a teacher who challenged me as no other had. This teacher was a mare who had known nothing but the racetrack and the paddock in my backyard; I began to think that I would never have the level of expertise needed to be successful riding her. But expertise was not what she wanted. She wanted honesty. As she became more fit, I became more overwhelmed and fearful, and rode defensively.  The toughest thing was to admit that, but admitting it was the key.  My trainer had created an environment where it was safe to be 100% honest, and I felt no need to hide my fear. Once I did, we restructured and went back to the point where we had been successful and built from there yet again. Soon we were past the point at which we were once stuck, because someone was able to help me interpret what my horse needed of me.

This I know:  the process of knowing myself has been an incredible adventure, made possible by the many horses I have had the privilege of working with. They have all been my teachers; yet as valuable as it has been to have learned to know myself, I have been especially fortunate to have experienced glimpses of the next dimension:  overcoming myself.

It would not be honest to claim consistency in this concept, but I have tasted it and my appetite to pursue it has been whetted: to enter an arena and for a moment in time, totally and completely give myself over to my horse, to leave my ego at the gate, to trust completely. I have experienced that level of synergy if for a moment, and it has shown me what it is possible to achieve by a magnificent animal’s uncanny ability to remove me from the self which at a point only selves to inhibit and not propel.

Lola- learning partnership from a beautiful soul..

What lofty goals will I achieve, having learned these concepts? Well… the concepts are still for me somewhat elusive but in a way I may have already achieved my goals. I have learned that there are bigger things than the self, and the biggest rewards in life as in riding, come when the self is in the background rather than the foreground.  This is not a remarkable concept for many; it was for me, and it took a horse to teach it in a way that I could accept it.

ESCAPE FROM WINTER

Escape from Winter                                                                 

Originally published in Horse Directory, May, 2014

By Tom Gumbrecht

It felt like something of a shock to the system: that first ride of the season after an unusually

The snow seemed endless and was our sole focus
for weeks on end

severe and repressively long winter, mercifully interrupted by a teasing, late spring.

It had been many months since I had climbed into the saddle, many months of non-stop mucking of stalls, chopping ice from feet, endless plowing and shoveling of snow, and thawing pipes that were electrically heated but froze anyway.  Chipping away at sheets of ice so that the cart could get the manure to the dumpster and the manure truck could take it away. Digging out gates, multiple blanket changes, pulling icicles from manes and huge electric bills to get water in front of the horses and keep it from freezing.

Now, I am one of those people who can honestly say that I have never minded walking down to the barn to take care of my horses, but I will admit that I came close this winter.  Not that I wanted to skip caring for them, but fighting a fever and chills, bracing each step against the wind while shielding my face from cutting shards of ice and blowing snow, feeling the thousand knives of crystallized breath inside my nostrils …. I did think, once or twice, “Can someone please come and do this for me, just tonight?”

Then the barn door opens and the air is filled with welcoming nickers and the comforting relative warmth of the hay-fueled, hooved, barn heating system.  The horses know that it’s cold, but they

A few moments recalling the racetrack on the longeline
make for a more productive first ride

place no value judgment on it.  It’s not horribly cold; it’s just cold.

The first few warmer days are a cruel tease; a little thawing of the arena footing followed by more snow and freezing temperatures.  But one afternoon the arena looks perfect, the sweatshirt comes off, the shirtsleeves get rolled up, and…. It is time.  I still second-guess myself after a winter’s hiatus from riding.  Can I still do it? Can my recently senior-citizen qualified body still take it?  I really only wonder about such things when I’m not actually on my horse; when idle periods let thoughts of “what if?” permeate my generally positive resolve.   

Fifteen minutes on a longeline dull Lola’s memories of the racetrack and I am awestruck once again at the poetry of a Thoroughbred horse in motion.  Then a boot finds an iron, a leg swings over a horse and everything finds its familiar place. Reins fall perfectly into place between gloved fingers.  Boots fall into irons at the right depth and angle, all by themselves.  I feel tall, physically and spiritually.  We walk the freshly groomed arena and get comfortable with all of the sensations again.  The rhythm of the rising trot takes hold, her ears go forward and the partnership has been renewed for another season.  I wasn’t going to canter but we both silently agreed to alter that plan. A slight leg pressure behind the girth and we take wing.  I love where I am, and I love who I am here with.  I love who I am when I am one with my horse. 

The  girls enjoy a long awaited spring day.

Spring is a time of renewal and I am again renewed.  More accurately, perhaps, I am born anew.  Why is this so?  Perhaps, as expressed in the words of horsewoman/ writer Pam Brown,

“A horse is the projection of peoples’ dreams about themselves – strong, powerful, beautiful – and has the capability of lending escape from our mundane existence.”

This winter, we existed.  This spring, we soar…

BACK ON TRACK

BACK ON TRACK                         
Originally published in Horse Directory                                                      April, 2014

By Tom Gumbrecht

Lola allowed the author to hitch his
cart to her star..

The tedium of the blue funk that befell us and called itself the winter of 2014 was interrupted for a day last month when a crew of young filmmakers from Savannah took over our barn for a few hours, turning the frozen tundra of paddocks into a backdrop for a small segment of an independent film about ex-racehorses. They had come to see my Lola, and learn about her story.

After several hours of shooting in sub-freezing temperatures, we adjourned to a local restaurant with the crew to thaw out and share a meal and some insight into the background of director Kara Colvin, her hopes for the film, and the challenges she has faced in creating the feature length documentary called Back On Track that has become her mission.

Tom Gumbrecht: Where do you live now, and have you always lived there?

Kara Colvin: I currently live in Savannah, GA but I grew up in Tallahassee, FL.

TG: How long have you been interested in horses? When did you get your first horse?

KC: For as long as I can remember, I have always loved horses. They are the most incredible animals to me. I always watched Black Beauty and The Black Stallion, I drew horses at every chance I could get and, of course, my room was filled to the capacity with Breyer horses and stuffed animal horses. I was just one of those little girls who was struck with the horse-addict bug and it has been a part of me ever since.

On my 13^th birthday my parents bought me my first and only horse: Jake, an off the track thoroughbred.

TG: How did you get interested in OTTBs? Can you tell me something special about your OTTB?

KC: My first real trainer always had OTTBs at her barn. That’s how I met Jake. I began riding on all sorts...of horses when I first started off. You know, those ancient fat quarter horses that will maybe take two steps if you use every inch of your being to make them move. I really didn’t mind, it made my education as a rider very diverse. I rode all sorts of horses: Tennessee walkers, Arabians, warmbloods, a dinky fat pony named Ashes, but I truly loved the thoroughbreds. I loved the power and grace they had, also their never-ending courage and will to please.

Jake is the smartest horse I have ever met. In all my years and experience with a variety of breeds, I have never met a horse as intelligent as him. Because of this, he has always been a challenge and the perfect horse to learn and grow with. He also loves salty snacks!

Director Kara Colvin, Dir. of Photography Colt Morton,
the author and Lola.
Photo by assistant Jasmine Hughes.

TG: Where do you go to school, and how did you choose film making as a potential career?

KC: I go to Savannah College of Art and Design. I graduated in 2013 with a 4.0 GPA and a BFA in Film & Television with a minor in Cinema Studies. I am now completing my Cinema Studies masters in a fast-paced yearlong program at SCAD and plan to graduate in summer 2014…

…Film was not my immediate interest at SCAD. I started off in painting, then illustration, interior design, and then production design for a moment and then to film. I’m very happy with my end decision and I wouldn’t trade what I’m doing now for anything in the world. Cinema had always been a portion of my life; I just had not accepted that it was the perfect outlet for my creative and ambitious aspirations.

TG: How did you decide to do a documentary about OTTBs? One you decided, what was your first step?

KC: Well, SCAD is not focused on documentaries. They are definitely a narrative-based school. There is one required documentary class. I was always interested in directing but I think that since the school was filled with “prodigies” in directing, I was certainly intimidated to make an effort towards my aspirations. I was very shy when I arrived at SCAD and stuck with production design.

I wanted to do something about retired racehorses but I wasn’t sure what I could accomplish…. Back on Track was born and the class fully supported my idea. I created the short over the span of a year and a half….  then started thinking about making Back on Track into a feature after the short was accepted and won the Silver Award at National Geographic’s Grey’s Reef Film Festival.

When creating the short the first step was contacting everyone I knew from my past that I rode with/knew about OTTBs, research and creating a story/script….. ..I also took on a new level of confidence, courage and determination that I needed to accomplish growing as a director. The first steps were not easy, but necessary for the position I am at now.

TG: What has been your biggest challenge in shooting Back On Track? What was your biggest disappointment? What about the process has been most rewarding?

KC: ….. There is not a part of Back on Track that is not challenging or a learning experience.

DannyBoy, not to be upstaged, tries to charm director
Kara Colvin

This is a large feature-length film that incorporates countless organizations/professionals from FL, VA, PA, MD, DC, CA, NY, SC, NC, KY and OH. It is difficult, and not many people realize how much time, money, effort and determination it takes to create this project. I have to thank my crew endlessly for their dedication and energy they put forth towards the project. They are not being paid; it is exhausting to be on a set for 12 plus hour days with minimal breaks and intense labor. They do it because they love the film and the message we are sending out. I could not do this without them.

Biggest disappointment: Well, there have been a lot. Like with any set, things don’t always go to plan –documentaries in particular. You can’t always plan for what will happen. One of my biggest disappointments was when we were not able to make a trip to see a 2-day show that we were looking forward to. Issues came up and I could not plan a trip around some of the complications. We were disappointed but the biggest setback was the negativity and insults we received from that group for not making the journey.

The most rewarding part: Is having the opportunity to create this film! I have never seen so much passion and love before. Everyone that I have met has such devotion towards thoroughbreds. The people who dedicate their lives to OTTBs deserve a chance to be recognized. It has been truly amazing and a humbling experience.

I also was fortunate enough to have the chance to create Albie. Albie is one of the stories from our trips. It revolves around a woman, Lori, who has had multiple brain surgeries and an off the track thoroughbred, Albie. Together they have helped heal each other’s emotional, mental and physical ailments and create an unbreakable bond.

TG: What is something that would surprise the average person about what goes into making a documentary? What is the most important quality for the director of a documentary to possess?

KC: It is a lot of work, stressful, very expensive and life-consuming but completely worth it. Documentary filmmaking is art, entertainment and information all in the form of a picture. There is a lot of responsibility that comes with being a documentary filmmaker. It is your choice to create an accurate story and/or depiction of your subject matter.

As a young director, I still have an endless education and learning experiences ahead of me that will probably sculpt this answer better than what I am about to say now. I believe the most important quality for a director of a documentary to possess is passion. You cannot create a work of love without a true passion for the subject matter as well as filmmaking as a whole.

Lori White on Albie, with Suzanne Liscouski
on location at Briar Creek Farm in Virginia.

TG: What is the ultimate result that you would like to see accomplished as result of making this film?

KC: Our goal is to promote aftercare for off the track thoroughbreds once their racing careers are over, promote responsible horse ownership and breeding, secure a unified racing government that has universal regulations for all racing states, support regulations on drugs in racing, showcase off the track thoroughbreds as versatile horses for any and all disciplines after their track days are over and support the organizations who care for off the track thoroughbreds and give them second careers and/or homes.

Thoroughbreds are wonderful, athletic, intelligent, caring, brave, powerful and beautiful creatures. I am dedicating my life to this film in the hopes of creating a difference for them. I owe Jake everything, for his love and support as my best friend and riding partner for half my life. This film was started because of him and every time I get discouraged, I think about him and how much he means to me. All off the track thoroughbreds deserve a second chance and a second life beyond the track. There are so many organizations and professionals who deserve to be recognized for their dedication to the sport and to thoroughbred aftercare.

I support thoroughbreds on and off the track and I hope this film makes a difference in the future of the sport of kings. It is time to get thoroughbred racing and off the track thoroughbreds back on track.

Our day on and off the set of Back On Track left us totally impressed with the

Lola. Original drawing by Casey Brister.

competence, integrity, focus and passion of the young filmmakers who had graced our backyard farm gates. As we parted company, we were left with a feeling of warmth and confidence that the future of Off-Track Thoroughbreds has been gifted with some very talented and concerned advocates.

It is said that people are opinions and horses are the truth. Back On Track, ultimately, is about the horses.

Learn more about Back On Track:
backontrackdocumentary.com