Fernando's Story - by Alida

Fernando’s story

My instructor suggested to me that I give up my lease on Big Chester as he was at an age where he was more suited to a life of leisure and a few lessons here and there, than the high demands of the dressage arena that I was putting on him.  I was progressing nicely and enjoyed the technicality of dressage a lot more than the showjumping.

After much deliberation and talks regarding guarantees (and threats!) about his future care, I accepted that this was indeed a good idea.  But who would I replace him with?  Ricus mentioned Fernando, and my heart stopped.  Fernando??!!  That beautiful 17.2hh giant I have admired only from afar, whom I had watched on numerous occasions in the show arena, wishing I had some of his riders’ bravery, ability or talent….Fernando??

Yes, said Ricus.  Fernando.  Lets put this in perspective:-

Big Chester.  Farm horse.  About 15.3h, 18yrs old.  Furry and fluffy, a bit scruffy and a good example of a general hack, who through hard work and plenty of time and effort, could barely manage a basic preliminary dressage test and for whom my biggest goal was to remain in the arena for the duration of the dressage test. Just don’t ask him to canter on the right hand lead! 

Now, compared with Fernando – 17.2hh, lean athletic, immaculately bred and trained Thoroughbred.  Could clear a jump a meter high on a good day and also did flying changes just because he could!

I was but a very average rider at best, but what I lacked in talent and ability, I made up for with carrots.  I brought a LOT of carrots.

Ricus convinced me to give it a chance, and with shaking boots and a nervous laugh, I approached Fernando that first day.  I got on the hay bucket I used as a mounting block for Big Chester, and realised: I was going to need a bigger bucket!  This boy was tall!  The fact that I’m mortally afraid of heights did not help matters much.

I managed to get up into the saddle with vertigo tugging at my innards.  Good start, I thought.  Then he started walking.  Oh my word!  All previous instructions from Ricus flew out my head.  I was a greenhorn on my first horse ride ever!  Well, that’s what it felt like.  I didn’t know what to do with my hands, I forgot about heels, shoulders and hips and I kept looking down to see if I really was that high off the ground!  His first trot in the arena had me unbalanced and it felt like he was very fast.  Later on, when I viewed a video clip my friend took of the ride, I said to her that I didn’t realise that her camera had a “slow motion” function.  It didn’t have one – that was just how he moved!  Although from my perspective in the saddle, it felt like he was preparing for take-off.

Have you ever driven a 1980’s Toyota Corolla and then gotten into a 2011 model Mercedes S-class?  Well, that was the difference between Fernando and Big Chester.  Even at the same speed, the difference is just remarkable.  I was too scared to apply leg pressure or adjust my reins – he had power steering!  The slightest flex of my wrists or pressure from my calf would have him responding immediately.  And his brakes!  I would merely think ‘halt’ and just close my hands around the reins, and he would go from a forward, working trot into a dead stop.  On more than one occasion I ended up chin to mane because I did not expect his halt to be so sudden! 

I had to lighten my riding style from keeping a vicelike grip on the outside rein with Big Chester, to having cotton wool in my hands for Fernando.

Slowly but surely we set off on our journey together. 

To come:  I take flying lessons..….

Alida's Pictures

Alida and Chester

Annelise, Alida's daughter on Apollo

Alida and Chester at Dressage

                                                                    Big Chester, ain't he a beauty?! :-)

                                                             Alida and Fernando!

Alida's Story

Well this is my story.  My name is Alida, I’m 38 years old, have been married for 16 years and have 2 children aged 6 and 10.

I've always loved horses – ever since I can remember I would get excited at the sight of a long flowing mane, an arched neck, a graceful gallop.

My very first horse that I could call my own only came along in my twenties.  As a child there was very little opportunity or money for horseriding.  I bought an 18month old stallion named Twister for just R500.  That was before I learned how to ride, please note.  Green horse + green rider = injuries, so NOT a good idea! I got a broken wrist for my efforts, many falls, sprains and lots of trodden toes. I actually didn't ride him that much. Did more of a "dirt slalom" - skiing behind him as I got dragged through the vegetable garden. It was only after I pulled him through a bout of colic that he actually seemed to decide that I was someone worthy of his trust.

I trained him on voice commands and did plenty of groundwork as I knew that I was too poor a rider to back him myself. Oh, we did plenty of groundwork allright - me walking with feed bucket and halter to go and fetch him from the plot next door where he had escaped to visit the pretty fillies!. He was eventually backed by a friend of ours, but I was never confident enough to be comfortable and relaxed while riding on him.  He was after all a stallion!

I didn't know that much back then, and he was just over two when we put a saddle on him (big old western thing that scared the living daylights out of him).  Knowing what I know now, I would have waited until he was three or four years old at least, but by then it would have been too late.

With patience, and time, I eventually got to riding him around our five-acre plot at a walk, which we both felt comfortable with, and later on did a little bit of trotting.  Unfortunately he died from African Horse sickness at a very young age.  I was grief stricken and was convinced I would never ride again.  I sold the other horse, sold my beautiful western saddle (beats head against desk as I think back to that little mistake!) and lost contact with my horsey friend and co-blogger Anya.

My daughter was born in 2001, then my son in 2004, and horses were pretty to look at, but not for me to ride. Then my daughter started with riding lessons at her nursery school at age 3, and loved it. When she went to "big school", we had to go to the riding school on a Saturday so she could continue with her lessons, and my husband, knowing me better than I know myself, saw that I was interested in more than being just a spectator. It was not long after that I agreed to "one lesson only", on an old schoolmaster named Charlie.  I climbed on, and asked the instructor if he thought the horse would mind me hurling on its head. I was terrified! ..

I managed just a walk that first day, on the lead rein.  Very embarrassing to have the groom lead me around just like the 3 year old riders!  Oh, and I managed not to hurl despite my churning stomach. So I signed up for a few more lessons. Trotted by the third week. Took me 6 months to be brave enough to canter a full round around the arena.  But I was happy. With patience (from Ricus my instructor and from old Charlie the schoolmaster horse) they taught me to relax, to feel the rhythm, to enjoy the experience, along with gentle reminders that I did, indeed, need to breathe.

I was presented the opportunity to half bait (or perhaps you might know the term half lease?) a big old Percheron x horse named Big Chester.  He had more than a few trust issues: sometimes resembled a runaway steam train thundering across the arena with his nose on his chest, did not like me fiddling around his ears, seemed to take joy in walking off whenever I tried to mount, would take a chunk of flesh from you given half a chance, and he had a very strong personality, but he was my boy and I loved him dearly.

December 2009, our riding school hosted a little Christmas show. I managed a very respectable 2nd place in the novice equitation on Big Chester. The fact that most of my fellow competitors haven't hit puberty yet did nothing to diminish my absolute joy at me and Big Chester surviving the flesh-eating umbrellas and predatory folding chairs that threatened to engulf us.  I even ventured forth into the scary jumping arena and managed a clear round of “terrifyingly large jumps” (40cm...)

A loner, he barely tolerated other horses around him.  He loved carrots, apples, sweet potato, watermelon, bread - given one treat at a time and in small quantities of course, much to his disappointment, and his huge Percheron head would frisk me for more treats that MUST be hidden somewhere on my person. He turned into a real softie actually, and my daughter could ride him with ease, with only an "apple" bit in his mouth (plastic straight bar and green - apparently has an apple flavour, but I haven't gone as far as sticking it in my mouth for a taste). And when my 6 year- old son walked right up to him to hug his huge chest, Big Chester arched his neck this way and that to get a better look at this little person, and stood very very still, until my son was done with hugging his huge chest.

Grownups he is more wary of, and it took some time to build that relationship of trust that is so important. As I work full time, have a husband and two kids to look after, my time was and still is unfortunately limited.  But we progressed slowly and surely and grew a strong bond.

Big Chester :  December 2009

The Story of Czar - Part 1

This is the Story of Czar, my Nooitgedacht/Arab Pony. It will be a long story, as you will find that I provide a lot of background information, to enable the reader to understand more. Because of the lengthiness, I will be doing his story in installments…

Every little girl, or more accurately then, almost every little girl on the planet, dreams of owning her own pony. She gets huge puppy eyes whenever she sees a pony or a horse and her family usually has to indulge her when the opportunity arises and she can sit on the back of a pony at the local Nursery or on a friend’s farm! Sometimes, when they grow up, a certain fondness for the majestic animals remain, sometimes the ‘obsession’ never lets up. With me, the obsession remained.

My dream got stronger as I grew up. I wanted to own my own horse, but, unfortunately, for the most part, I grew up in the city. I was fortunate that my parents knew lots of people who had farms and so we could visit those over the weekends and holidays and in this way I gained some experience riding different horses and ponies. These horse owners were always so friendly, helpful and allowed me to gain my own experience and learn at my own pace. We wore shorts and rode barefoot, sometimes bareback, always filled with joy and fun. It was always easy-going. As everyone agrees I am sure, horses hold something magical, mystical and noble inside them and I have always felt that just to be near them or to touch them, was fulfilling to me, somehow. However, this was the sum total of my experience as my parents could not afford to send me for horse riding lessons. Later on in life, I was not too sad about this fact, because my experience with Riding schools, was not altogether pleasant.

We used to live quite close to a stable yard and the kids would ride the horses to the local Café on the corner to buy Cokes before returning from their outrides. As a little girl of six or seven years old, watching these magnificent beings on those awesome creatures, I so very much wanted to get closer and stroke the horses’ noses. Alas, I was shunned and shouted away every time. My conclusion: horsey schools are not so nice…

When I was in High School, I had a friend who was really into her horse riding lessons and she invited me to go along one Saturday. Her Instructor made me so nervous and I was only sitting on the side watching my friend! She was yelling at my friend and again this nagging feeling inside me flared up: Horsey schools are really not so nice…

The years rolled by and I was in my twenties when my dream became a reality. A couple of my friends owned (and still owns) a plot in Honeydew, Johannesburg and the topic of horses came up. As luck would have it, owning her own horse, has also always been Alida’s dream and we sat together dreaming away, thinking, that it would not be too far fetched for us to keep horses on their plot, as it was big enough. We knew absolutely nothing, except that we wanted to make our dreams come true. And so, our idea grew wings and took off, because everything sort of naturally fell into place. Alida’s husband, Hein, was magnificent and very agreeable to our crazy notions, because he understood our childhood dreams and he decided to help us make them come true. For this, we shall be forever grateful.

And so, we began our search – to find horses. Alida went about it a little differently, but that is her story.

Now, because I am the way I am, a little quirky, eccentric, stubborn and so on, I have always had this affinity for stallions. Do not ask me why, I can hazard a guess and reckon it may have something to do with the story of Black Beauty. But a black stallion has just always been RIGHT for me.  I think I irritated everyone around me, because all I could talk about was my own horse and finding him and having him and what I planned and how it would be and so on and so on!

Then a friend of mine told me about an abbatoir in Krugersdorp where, apparently, you could buy a young horse quite cheaply as you would only be paying for the ‘meat’! These horses are gathered from all across the country, brought to the abbatoir or slaughterhouse and then readied for slaughter, to be made into dog food, or certain types of polony or taken to the lion parks to feed the lions. It was a horrible thought, and remains a horrible thought to this day, but to make a long story short, my friend agreed to go there with his cousin, who knew horses quite well and pick out one for me, and one for Hein’s sister, Issie. Issie wanted a filly, but I was adamant that I preferred a colt, the darker and closest to black as possible, please. (They knew that I would not be able to go there and leave with only two horses, I would buy the whole lot!)

And so, on a bright Wednesday, in 1998 my friend called me to let me know that they were on their way with the horse box. We had made a (very) quick paddock for their arrival and it was ready and waiting. I was working half day at the time, so I got in my car with two colleagues from the office and we drove through to the plot, so go see my baby!

And, he was still a baby. They found the two, a little dark grey colt (8 months old) and a little Basuto type filly, standing in the queue to be shot! To this day, gunfire freaks Czar out completely, and who can blame him?

Issie named her little filly Topaz and she was a frail, scrawny little thing, terrified of people. How they managed to get them into that horsebox remains a mystery to this day. As soon as they offloaded them, the two little ones literally scampered away to the far side of the paddock, to get as far away from people as they possibly could. 

The challenge ahead was very clear to me, but I was ecstatic! Czar had arrived!

Some of our Animals!

This is Snowbell, she lives in Honeydew with Alida, and is used for Equine Therapy as a Specialist assisting kids who battle with certain difficulties. She is a Welsh Pony and Alida will be contributing more stories about her and her other friends who share the paddocks!

 This is Peanut, who is just starting to get used to people on her back again. She also lives with Alida. Here I am taking her for a spin with the Western Saddle!

 This is Czar, my Stallion! He is 13 years old and has a long story, which will be told in due course.

And this, Ladies and Gentleman, is Fernando, Alida's Big Boy. She will most definitely be writing volumes about this stunning gentleman!

 This is Punkie, he is a rescued Grey Loerie who fell out of the tree when a baby and who has deformed legs. He is quite tame and very lovable and eats the whole day!

 And this pretty guy is Khalief, my Wolf Hybrid, who is turning 14 this year. His stories are also quite amazing, so watch this Blog!

 This is my African Grey Parrot, playing with a toy on the bed, caught in action. He is a little person, is all that I know. He is still a 'baby' of 5 years old this year and provides laughter and joy on a daily basis. I could not and would not want to imagine my life without this little feathered angel.

 This is Minsi, a Chow Cross Something Or Other, and she belongs to Khalief. She is still a youngster and she keeps Mr Wolf on the go!

 And this Big Boy is Sultan, my Boerperd, who I sadly had to leave behind on the farm in Groblersdal, but I will always remember him. Still Stallion, headstrong but gorgeous.

WELCOME TO OUR BLOG!

So here we are! Alida and me, starting our very first Blog! What will we be 'blogging' about? Well, we will be bragging and writing about our adventures! Our Horse and other Animal Adventures! Animals tend to bring lots of people together, we've seen this, we've experienced this and we live this every day! And so, we wish to share these experiences and touch others in whichever way, through our Animal Stories.
We are the A Squad. A for Anya, A for Alida and A for Animals!