A few days and a pile of paperwork later, I arrive back at Endeavor for my first day of volunteering. Since I know where to look now as the car pulls in, I see a paint horse hanging her head lazily over her paddock fence in the distance. She whinnies a feint hello and then trots off in the other direction.
Kristy told me that the first few days of work, I would be shadowing her, to find out the normal daily routine, and which horse needed what care. When I find Kristy in her office, she hugs me as a greeting, going on about how much there is to be done. She hands me two double-sided pieces of printer paper with information about each horse.
"That's what you should need to know for today. You'll only be taking care of our nine horses that are owned by the barn and the four that are partially leased and living on the farm." She names off the thirteen horses that I will care for, then points to each one on my sheets. I just nod and do my best to follow along.
"Since it's still rather early in the morning, the horses have only just woken up," Kristy explains. I glance at the clock in her office; it's only 7:00 in the morning. "We'll turn them out in their respective paddocks and then muck out some stalls, sound good?"
"Great!" I respond enthusiastically. She sets off in front of me, and I tag along not far behind. The first stall we enter is Pilot's. He's a 15.3 hand fresian, with a thick black mane and tail. Kristy tells me that he's actually only 3 years old, and he'll start his straining soon. She shows me how to slide the worn out leather halter over his nose and ears, then situates it on his head without buckling the straps.
"Your turn," she gently tugs the halter off his head and hands it to me, placing it in my nervous hands. I had told Kristy that I didn't have much experience, so this must be part of my official training for volunteering. I attempt to put it on his head, following the same basic motions that Kristy had. The leather is cool in my hands, a golden nameplate attached to the cheek piece, reading "Freedom Flier". It must be his registered name.
Once I've managed to slide the halter on as best I can, Kristy nods her approval.
"It looks good, but make sure you don't forget to put the crown strap over his ears," she suggested lightly. "That can get really uncomfortable for the horse if it's put on wrong. Halters are pretty easy for the most part, unless you have a horse who's tossing his head all around or can't be caught." She laughed, and fixed my mistake, then tightened the throat latch and clipped on a lead rope.
"Leading a horse is pretty simple," she continued. "Put one hand up here, under his head near the top of the rope. The other end of the rope can be held in your left hand. You almost always want to lead a horse with you on the left and the horse on your right. It's just a tradition English riders follow. It actually doesn't matter, but it can scare the horse if they've never been led the opposite way."
Kristy and I spend about a half hour turning the horses out into their paddocks, each time with me being allowed to master the art of halters and lead ropes. By the time we reach Indie's stall, the last one, we're both laughing and talking easily as if we'd been friends for years. Warming up to Kristy is easy, and she seems to realize how much effort I've put in to learning about horses, even though I've never been able to ride much. I don't think she minds that I'm completely clueless after all.
Indie looks beautiful in the morning sun, her bay coloring shining as the light bounced off of her coat. Her dark brown eyes gleam warmly as I grab her indigo halter from the hook outside her stall door. Kristy and I work together, she pulls off the blanket and hangs it while I slide her halter on and clip her lead rope.
