A Horse's Last Will and Testament

A HORSE’S LAST WILL AND TESTAMENT 

Originally published in Horse Directory, May 2012

By Tom Gumbrecht

 The author's mother, Helen, and

his first horse, Buddy: Love and

kindness is their legacy.....

I hereby appoint you, my human, to carry out these, my last wishes:

Upon my death, I hereby bequeath to an unwanted horse of your choosing, the wonderful home you have given me.  I give her all of my warm blankets, my feeder, my water buckets and my hay rack. I give her the use of my stall, my paddock, and the fence that kept me safe.  I give to her the heater that kept my water from freezing in the winter and the fan that kept my stall cool in the summer.

I hereby acknowledge that these are just possessions, and that as such, they’re really yours, not mine. But you really don’t have a use for them yourself, do you?

What I really have to bequeath is the wonderful place in your heart that I helped you discover.   That place full of love so pure and unconditional that you didn’t even know was there until we came into each others’ lives.  This is what I helped to create, and this is what is mine to give.  It must be passed on to the next unloved horse.  My hope is that it won’t die with me, to let it would be to dishonor what you and I created together.

To the poor, confused, scared athlete at the auction, recently earning a handsome living for his owner and summarily discarded when no longer able, I give the solemn promise that you once gave me: “No human will ever do anything bad to you again”.

To the favorite camp horse who taught countless children the joys of riding and caring for a horse, only to be shipped off unceremoniously at summer’s end by those unwilling to feed him over the winter, I give an end to the fear and uncertainty that each change of seasons brings. I give the place on the stall door where his nameplate will stay forever until one day, like mine, it will take the place of honor you will give it in your home.

To the loyal senior horse who once babysat someone’s daughter and gave purpose to her life and ribbons to her wall, now forgotten as life took turns that didn’t include him,  I give your soft touch, your easy smile, your soothing words, your undying respect and your unshakeable commitment.

Through our partnership you became a better person.  You did for me, what you once thought yourself incapable of.  That was my gift to you while I was living, and now I humbly ask that you pass along what I have taught you to the next deserving horse.  Please don’t say, “I will never have another horse again.  No other horse could ever take your place, and the pain of loss is too great”. 

Go instead and find an unloved horse whose hope has all but disappeared and give my place to her.  That is really all I have to give… the love I helped you find in yourself.

This story was inspired by “The Last Will and Testament of a Companion Animal”, a topic explored by my friend Peggy Hoyt, of The Center for Animal Advocacy.

Serendipity

Serendipity

By Tom Gumbrecht      

Originally published in Horse Directory,  April 2012                                                                                                               

 

Serendipity. ser-en-dip-i-ty. n. The faculty of making fortunate discoveries by accident.

There was only one reason that I found myself on the half-mile driveway at Hunters Isle Show Stable

In Brookville, NY, and that was to decline a job that was offered to me in my capacity as an electrical contractor. I was just too busy. And I had lost the slip of paper that I had transcribed the message on, so I hadn’t returned the call. Skip Lauinger, the owner, called back again, now two weeks later, and not wanting to appear ungrateful, I decided to deliver the bad news in person.  By making a personal visit, I could also get a feel for the job and perhaps recommend someone else to do it.

That’s what I thought. But somewhere, some wheels had been set into motion that would change my life, and that of my family, forever. I just didn’t know it yet. I didn’t know that three months later my truck would be wearing down ruts in that driveway, and that I not only would be a student of English riding and horsemanship, but my name would be engraved on a stall plate in the barn where the horse that I was leasing, Circus, lived. There was absolutely nothing to suggest that from one day to the next, the path of my life would be so radically different. Testimony, as it were, to the power of the horse.

It took only minutes to become absorbed in the vibe of the place, and it was unlike any other place I had been.  I had been in similarly constructed buildings, and on similarly bucolic landscape. With friendly and accepting people, similar to those I had met here.  But there was a difference somehow. The difference, I was to discover, was that there were horses here. And the difference was huge.  An animal lover since birth, I was no stranger to kinship with another species. Dogs, cats. But this was different. My dog looked up to me. My mother’s cat looked down on me.  These horses … looked right at me, into me. Literally and figuratively, it felt like we were on the same level.  It’s difficult to find the words to describe that epiphany, but I think all of us who love horses have shared it, and so will understand it.

I forgot about declining the job and began taking notes and making sketches.  I was going to find a way to spend time around there.  And I did. I was a regular fixture at the barn for several weeks as I rewired the main barn. I imagine that I was a bit of a curiosity at first, just a regular guy, a middle aged tradesman in a world of polished, accomplished equestrians. A tradesman who incidentally was developing an infatuation, like that of a schoolgirl, with all things horsey.  I liked this world, but could not yet picture myself in it.  It just wasn’t something that people like me did. In fact, I believed that I didn’t know a single person who was actively involved in horses and riding. So… I brought my niece, Samantha, there for riding lessons. She was eight years old and I was.. a lot older. After two weeks I succumbed and signed myself up. Sam started out on Lucky, a 40+ year old, bay pony, and I started my career on Circus, a chestnut Appendix gelding who used to work for Ringling Brothers. We both took to it with a passion. Things went well until it was rumored that Circus’ owner was going to take him to a different barn. Since Hunter’s Isle was a show barn, Circus was one of only two “schoolies” and the other, Silver, was too small for my stature. I feared my riding career would be over.

Within days, another random call came in to my electrical business. The name, Marjorie Cordero, sounded familiar but I couldn’t place it at the time. Of course, she was the wife of Jockey Hall-of -Famer Angel Cordero, and an accomplished jockey in her own right, being one of the first female jockeys in the industry. From the enthusiasm, bordering on obsession, of a new rider with three months experience under his belt, I talked horses nonstop, until she stopped me: “Wait a second. Where do you ride?” she asked. “Hunter’s Isle,” I replied. “I have two horses there!” she said.“What are their names”?  “Arizona and Circus.” “Oh my God! I’m learning to ride on Circus!”

That’s the way my horse life has gone. Many happy coincidences that perhaps weren’t coincidences.

She explained Circus’ situation to me. He had been a rescue, and was happy now teaching beginners to ride. But the focus at Hunter’s Isle was moving away from beginner lessons and more toward competition, which would mean that Circus would be out of a job. There was another job waiting for him at the track, as a pony horse for the racehorses. Apparently he was good at that. “But,” she said

“I know you really like him and you seem to be doing well with him. I you want to pay his board, I’ll still own him and take care of him health-wise, but you can use him and love him and treat him like your own horse. Think about it.”

I finished my job there and rushed over to Hunter’s Isle. Skip was waiting with a big grin. “Marge called me,” he said. He made me an offer to board Circus that was probably less than half of the going rate at the time. My head was spinning. “What’s the matter, not a good enough deal for you?” asked Skip. “No,no… It’s just that… well as much as I love it, it seems so far out of reach. Like, I just can’t picture myself leasing a horse,” I replied. “Well, once you’ve done it, then you can picture yourself doing it. OK?”, he said. Things seemed so simple when he explained them…

That is the story of how I drove down a driveway in Brookville, NY in August, looking to decline a job offer, and wound up taking riding lessons, riding daily, and leasing a horse in October.

A year later, Skip sold the farm for a bigger one in Virginia. I once again thought my riding life was over, but it was just beginning. There was a lot more in store for me: western lessons, dressage lessons and jumping lessons, cross-country riding, equi-trekking in Colorado and Ireland. Becoming a horse property owner, building a barn and filling it with four horses. Sadly, Samantha’s mom died and my wife Mary and I became her adoptive parents. We became a horse family, with Sam excelling in the jumper ring. I became a proud horse-show parent, and after Sam went off to college with her horse, I had my own modest show career in low-level eventing and jumpers. Currently, I’m working with a trainer in the pursuit of giving a second career to my wonderful OTTB auction mare.

I sometimes wonder what life would have been like, had I not lost that paper with the phone number and driven to the farm that day…. It all seems so random. But so does a maze, until viewed from above. Perhaps that’s where the plan came from.

Barn Fires

Barn Fires   

By Tom Gumbrecht     

                                                                                                                                

 Originally published in Horse Directory, March 2012

There are few things in the news that affect horsemen more than reading about yet another barn fire in which multiple horses have perished.  More so than from other tragedies, I find myself physically as well as emotionally effected by these stories.  As the horses usually have absolutely no chance of escaping, I think it is probably the horse owner’s worst nightmare.

Emotions aside, in my job as a professional electrician, I am mindful that the majority of these fires are caused by faulty electrical wiring or fixtures. Over the years I have borne witness to my share of potential as well as actual hazards. Designing a barn’s electrical system to today’s codes and standards is a topic for another chapter.  For today, let’s address what we can do to make the existing horse barn safer.

I can’t cite statistics or studies, but my own experience shows the main safety issues that I am exposed to fall into three general categories:  1) Using extension cords in place of permanent wiring; 2) Exposed lamps in lighting fixtures, and 3) Overloading of branch circuits.

The first item I am addressing, extension cords, was the subject of an entire earlier article. In summarizing, I am often asked how extension cords can be UL listed and sold if they are inherently unsafe.  The answer is that cords are not unsafe when used as intended, but become so when used in place of permanent wiring. The main concern is that most general purpose outlets in barns are powered by 15 or 20 ampere circuits, using 14 or 12 gauge building wiring, respectively. Most cords, however, for reasons of economy and flexibility, are rated for 8 or 10 amperes, and are constructed of 18 or 16 gauge wiring. That’s no problem if you are using the cord as intended – say, powering a clipper which only draws 1 to 4 amperes. The problem comes when the cord is left in place, maybe tacked up on the rafters for the sake of “neatness”. You use it occasionally, but then winter comes and you plug a couple of bucket heaters into it. When the horses start drinking more water because it’s not ice cold, two buckets become four – or more. If they draw 2.5 amperes each, you are now drawing 10 amperes on your 18 gauge extension cord that is only rated to carry 8 amperes. The circuit breaker won’t trip, because it is protecting the building wiring which is rated at 20 amperes.  Next winter, you decide to remove two of the buckets and add a trough outside the stall with a 1500 watt heater, which draws 12.5 amps at 120 volts. If you thought of it, you even replaced the old 18 gauge cord with a 16 gauge one that the package called “heavy duty”.  Now the load is 17.5 amperes on a cord that is designed to handle 10 amperes. In this case it is possible to overload a “heavy duty” cord by using it at 175% of its rated capacity, and never trip a circuit breaker. What has happened is, we’ve begun to think of the extension cord as permanent wiring, rather than as a temporary convenience to extend the appliance cord over to the outlet. In doing so, we have created an unsafe condition.  Overloaded cords run hot. Heat is the product of too much current flowing over too small a wire. The material they are made of isn’t intended to stand up over time as permanent wiring must. It’s assumed that you will have the opportunity to inspect it as you unroll it before each use.

The second item on our list is exposed lamps (bulbs) in lighting fixtures.  Put simply, they don’t belong in a horse barn. A hot light bulb that gets covered in dust or cobwebs is a hazard.  A bulb that explodes due to accumulating moisture, being struck by horse or human, or simply a manufacturing defect introduces the additional risk of a hot filament falling onto a flammable fuel source such as hay or dry shavings. In the case of an unguarded fluorescent fixture, birds frequently build nests in or above these fixtures due to the heat generated by the ballast transformers within them. Ballasts do burn out, and a fuel source such as that from birds’ nesting materials will provide, with oxygen, all the necessary components for a fire that may quickly spread to dry wood framing . The relatively easy fix is to use totally enclosed, gasketed and guarded light fixtures everywhere in the barn.  They are known in the trade as vaporproof fixtures and are completely enclosed so that nothing can enter them, nothing can touch the hot lamp, and no hot parts or gases can escape in the event of failure. The incandescent versions have a cast metal wiring box, a Pyrex globe covering the lamp, and a cast metal guard over the globe.  In the case of the fluorescent fixture, the normal metal fixture pan is surrounded by a sealed fiberglass enclosure with a gasketed lexan cover over the lamps sealed with a gasket and secured in place with multiple pressure clamps.

The last item, overloaded branch circuits, is not typically a problem if the wiring was professionally installed and not subsequently tampered with.  If too much load is placed on a circuit that has been properly protected, the result will be only the inconvenience of a tripped circuit breaker.  The problem comes when some “resourceful” individual does a quick fix by installing a larger circuit breaker. The immediate problem, tripping of a circuit breaker, is solved, but the much more serious problem of wiring which is no longer protected at the level for which it was designed, is created.  Any time a wire is allowed to carry more current than it was designed to, there is nothing to stop it from heating up to a level above which is considered acceptable.

Unsafe conditions tend to creep up on us; we don’t set out to create hazardous conditions for our horses.  Some may think it silly that the electrical requirements in horse barns (which are covered by their own separate part of the National Electric Code) are in many ways more stringent than those in our homes. I believe that it makes perfect sense. The environmental conditions in a horse barn are much more severe than the normal wiring methods found in the home can handle.  Most importantly, a human can usually sense and react to the warning signals of a smoke alarm, the smell of smoke, or of burning building materials and take appropriate action to protect or evacuate the occupants. Our horses, however, depend on us for that, so we need to use extra-safe practices to keep them secure.

As I always state in closing my electrical safety discussions, I know that we all love our animals. Sometimes in the interest of expedience, we can inadvertently cause conditions that we never intended. Electrical safety is just another aspect of stable management.  I again use the words of Show Jumping Hall of Famer George Morris, now Chef D’Equipe of the US Equestrian Team, to summarize: “Love means giving something our attention, which means taking care of that which we love. We call this stable management”.

Lessons From Penn State

Lessons From Penn State                                                                 

Originally posted as an editorial comment in Horse Directory, December, 2011

By Tom Gumbrecht

 Surely every human being not totally isolated from the outside world has experienced some kind of strong reaction to the recent sexual abuse scandal at Penn State University.
For most it may be outrage, disgrace, or disgust. Some may experience the pain of reopening old wounds from their own childhood. For many it might be fear of the unspeakable happening to their own children.

We involved in equine sport can perceive ourselves to exist as somewhat of an island amidst the sea of other athletic pursuits. But are we in fact exempt from human failings? When a young person finds a connection with a horse, a passion can be unlocked which is often life-changing. Those who work with our children can be thought of, often rightly, as facilitators of miracles, by student and parent alike. 

We are fortunate to be able to provide our children exposure to a sport that is full of wonderful people dedicated to creating a rewarding and positive experience for them. To bear witness to the process is inspiring, joyful and fulfilling.

To that, we add vigilance. As parents, it's our job to create an environment in which a child feels it is safe to tell us if someone they trust has done something to make them or someone they know, uncomfortable...even a miracle worker.

Hopefully, the lesson of Penn State will be that no one is beyond reproach.

Thomas Gumbrecht

Fort Salonga, NY

Larger Than Life

LARGER THAN LIFE                                                                                                                           

 Originally published in Horse Directory, January 2012

By Thomas Gumbrecht

Thomas G. “Tommy”  Fernan,  1962-2011, was my cousin through marriage.  You likely didn’t know him, because although raised on Long Island he hadn’t lived here for many years. His only connection to the horse world that I know of, was his relationship to me.

The words of his eulogy are still with me from today’s funeral mass: he was larger than life, a mountain of a man; a former NYPD officer, football player, bodybuilder and power lifter.  He was powerful, tough, fearless, and self assured.  He was an athlete who went out to win, if he went out at all.  He rarely asked for an opinion because he trusted his own. I liked him and enjoyed seeing him on holidays and special occasions, but I couldn’t really relate to him because basically, he was everything I was not. I never felt uncomfortable around him, though, because he never made me feel that way. But we lived in different worlds.

In 2005, I acquired DannyBoy, a very solidly built APHA gelding with lots of attitude.  Danny transformed me from a casual rider to a committed competitor in Horse Trials, and later Jumpers.  He was powerful, tough, fearless, and self-assured.  He showed up to win.  He didn’t ask for your opinion, he just needed a clear instruction of what you needed him to do. The “how” was up to him, and he was usually right. His world was different from mine also but as I was the one on his back during his displays of bravery and acumen, he carried me into his.

I believe it was on Thanksgiving in 2006 that Tommy and DannyBoy first met.  After dinner, he asked to go down to the barn and see our horses, as was his custom.  I happily obliged, but always thought that the request was a concession to his children T.J. and Taylor.  Kids love horses, and Tommy indulged his children’s interests.  When DannyBoy met Tommy, he bulldozed his way past the other horses to get his attention.  That was his way. Tommy took to him immediately, and showed a side of himself with which I was not familiar.  His quiet way and gentle touch with Danny belied his public persona.  He knew just how to be, and what to do, instinctively.  Words were never necessary, just a knowing nod from a man and a bow of the head from a horse who bowed to no one. Enforcer meets terminator. They were equals, and neither had anything to prove to the other. They had each other’s number.  They were connected.

From that day forward, whenever Tommy brought his family to our home, his first stop after the required pleasantries to the humans, was the barn.. “How’s that paint horse”? he would ask. “Go see”, I would reply. “He’s waiting for you”.  More than a horse-human bond was forming during those visits.  A connection was forming between Tommy and me, two guys as different as anyone might imagine.  An unspoken connection, of course, but he knew and understood a part of my world, and I understood a part of his.  I saw the man in a different light since then.

I’m sorry that Tommy left this life too soon, but I will always be happy for the opportunity we had to get to know each other better that was made possible by our mutual connection to a horse who was also…. larger than life.

Tommy Fernan with son T.J.

The Language of the Heart

The Language of the Heart                                                                                                                  Originally Published in Horse Directory, December 2011

by Tom Gumbrecht 

During the holiday season, someone invariably brings up the old European legend that states that on Christmas Eve at midnight, our animals can speak in human voice.  This quickly leads to amusing banter about what our horses would say to us. How we wish we knew what our horses were thinking about us!

But do we? Do we really need human language for such a conversation? We are all students of the Equus language. The very best of us become fluent in it.  After quite a few years of study, much longer than it would take to get a Master’s Degree, I still only have what I would call a working knowledge of it.  When we meet someone who is fluent, we have found a great horseman.  When we meet someone who is not only fluent but can translate for us into human language, we have found a great trainer. Equus doesn’t always translate readily into human language, but the best trainers find the words in the same way an artist uses oil paint to capture the feeling of a magnificent vista. But the words of the trainer are just there to facilitate the real, nonverbal, horse-human connection. Equus is a language that words take away from, not add to.  It is purity, simplicity, honesty, integrity. It is the language of the heart.  And that is, quite possibly, what attracts us to our equine partners.

Honesty, in a word, defines the human-equine relationship.  Honesty fosters trust, and trust is what we require in order to do what we do with our horses.  Actions, not words, create it.  People say, but horses do.  We are what we do; what we say is how we want to appear.  Horses don’t care how they appear.  Sometimes when I come back from a solo trail ride I’m asked, “You went alone”? Trying to appear witty, sometimes I’ll reply, “Alone? No… I was with my horse!” But I mean it… the time spent with just horse and rider to me has been a priceless asset in my study of Equus. In those moments, words are a distraction… an interruption in the flow of messages between us. So, while I enjoy the companionship of a like minded rider, I also value, no, treasure those times when it’s just me and my horse. They are my language lessons.

It has been said that princes learn no art truly, but the art of horsemanship. The reason, the saying goes, is that the brave beast is no flatterer.  He will throw a prince as soon as his groom. Truly, when we have earned the respect of a horse, we have really earned it. They have no ulterior motives. Their language doesn’t include flattery to entice getting what they want, coercion to force getting what they want, sarcasm to ridicule into getting what they want, courtesy to put a different spin on what they want, or withholding of truth to spare the other’s feelings. When we learn to speak Equus, our language is simpler:  asking for what we want, observing the reply to the question, rephrasing the question when it’s necessary, and expressing when we are pleased with the effort.  When failing to make myself understood, I need to change the way I’m asking.  It’s such a simple rule if I can just remember it.  The better we get at remembering that, I believe, the better horsemen we become. 

So, what is it that makes our relationship with our horses so unique and compelling?  Perhaps it is the opportunity to converse in the language of the heart.  Because what comes from the heart, touches the heart.