The mare named Vesta…
About 5 years ago my long time friend and horse buddy Tristan emailed me a picture of a mare she was interested in buying. The first note of surprise was that Tristan wanted a horse at all. About a year prior she had some difficult times and had decided to not show her beautiful hunter Ripley, later her father sold Ripley and left Tristan horseless and sad. We all know what happens to a horse girl with out a horse. We come very close to losing our luster, our polish and our wildish nature without a horse. So of course I was not only excited but also curious about what she was interested in as a prospect.

Tristan has always had excellent taste in horses, hunters especially. During that time most hunters were of the Thoroughbred sort and Tristan’s tended to have not only flashy movement but also a pretty package to match.
I will never forget opening the email and seeing a mare of unknown size but huge bone structure, a complete unruly forelock flying off to the side, dressed in western garb dragging a log. Yes you read that right. A log. A big one. No person, no bridle, no fences, just dragging a log. Looking back after I got to know her better that should have been an indication to her personality.
I agreed to go along with Tristan because I like to look at horses for sale like some women like to look at diamonds at Tiffany’s. Mostly I went because I love this girl with all my heart and if she wanted to get back into horses I would do whatever I possibly could to get her back into them because I felt that a horse would save her.

When we finally found the place she was at, which was by the way directly in the center of now where Hicksville Alaska we were appalled. Both Tristan and I had come from the land of heated barns, trace clips, baled hay and horses that well… Didn’t look like goats. What we found was a gigantic dark chestnut mare with huge overgrown feet, a big soft eye and still that unruly forelock. Since my job was to pal along as the serious horse trainer and be the hard-nosed sort I demanded a demonstration. Which included the mare dragging a clueless girl (in flip flops!) around the yard. We got told all sorts of a story about her breeding which was a Belgian QH cross, and to this day I don’t think there was a blade of hay on the property nor a drop of water in the bathtub (yes I said bathtub) that was the mare’s water trough. After the mare was done dragging the girl around, I decided I’d pick my battle elsewhere.
When we left I saw the starry eyed look in Tristan’s eyes. She was in love. Tristan sold her beloved SAAB for the horse and the deal was done. Sort of. There was still the matter of transport. Which took 4 people near 2 hours to accomplish just the loading. Upon unloading this mare drug 3 people across the barn, yard “just because”.

Tristan dubbed the mare “Vesta” after the goddess of self-reliance. A suitable name for a formidable, and special horse.

Over the years as Vesta matured and grew even bigger and all her parts fit into themselves we finally saw what we knew was there. A lovely, gigantic, solid built mare with a lot of athletic ability and a larger than life disposition. If there was a blade of grass she wanted, she got it. She didn’t mean it if she walked over you and ten other people to get it, and perhaps took out her paddock fence in the process. She didn’t have a mean bone in her big red body. She just knew what she wanted and went after it.

As the years passed I watched my shy and timid friend become like the image of her horse. Now to this day if there is something Tristan wants – she will go get it. Just like Vesta. Tristan grew up riding “made” horses, show horses, horses that didn’t venture outside of the arena. And here was a 16.2 hand green horse that was fearless. I won’t say I didn’t worry. But they found their way…

I am certain that as an outsider what I saw my friend learn hardly scratches the surface. But the transformation for Tristan was amazing… I am certain that the changes that took place in my friend weren’t all noticeable. Vesta had changed her, helped her grow and given her her very own “self reliance” and belief in herself and her capabilities.

As the years passed and Tristan was married had a baby and had yet another on the way. The time came for a big life choice, when your 5 months pregnant handling a green unpredictable horse is not really an option. Tristan found Vesta the very best home a horse could have. She would have love, care and a job.

This morning we found out that our beloved Vesta passed on… I don’t want to get into details. They hurt too much. We just know that this larger than life dark red mare has left the planet and all we have left of her are memories and the lessons she taught us.

Vesta’s story deserves to be told, so does Tristan’s. All animals teach us lessons. Sadly sometimes when the lessons are learned our animals choose to leave the planet. It is a shameful thing when we let these lessons pass us by and a life was all for naught. I know how she touched my life; I know how deeply she touched Tristan’s. I know that I am eternally grateful to Vesta for being brave enough to give my friend back the gift of horses and bring her soul back to this side.

And this song I dedicate to you… Perhaps only Tristan will understand it’s meaning with regard to Vesta but she did help her find her gypsy, her wild woman and her way in life.

So Im back, to the velvet underground
Back to the floor, that I love
To a room with some lace and paper flowers
Back to the gypsy that I was
To the gypsy... that I was

And it all comes down to you
Well, you know that it does
Well, lightning strikes, maybe once, maybe twice
Ah, and it lights up the night
And you see your gypsy
You see your gypsy

To the gypsy that remains faces freedom with a little fear
I have no fear, I have only love
And if I was a child
And the child was enough
Enough for me to love
Enough to love

She is dancing away from me now
She was just a wish
She was just a wish
And a memory is all that is left for you now
You see your gypsy
You see your gypsy

Lightning strikes, maybe once, maybe twice
And it all comes down to you

And it all comes down to you

Lightning strikes, maybe once, maybe twice
And it all comes down to you

I still see your bright eyes, bright eyes
And it all comes down to you
I still see your bright eyes, bright eyes
And it all comes down to you

I still see your bright eyes, bright eyes
(she was just a wish)
(she was just a wish)
And it all comes down to you

Lightning strikes, maybe once, maybe twice
And it all comes down to you