Another Cool Quiz

From rolanni


OAK
You are boisterous and affectionate. You are the
kind of tree that takes nothing sitting down,
and is always ready for an adventure. You like
to see everything that goes on around you. You
like the warm weather, but you flourish when
the nights tend to grow slightly colder. You
are someone who likes to extend your days into
the night hours because you never want to leave
anything unfinished. You love an audience when
you do things and you like to show off
sometimes, but others admire your attitude. You
fear past mistakes coming back to haunt you,
but try to live day by day. You admire the
strength of others and try to find the same in
yourself. When you leave this word, you want to
make an impression so that you'll never be
forgotten.


What's Your Inner Tree?
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The Next to Last Horse Birthday of the Year

Capria's, of course. Capria is the First.

The story starts in 1992. I'd decided to move to Tucson from New Haven--I was downright rootbound in the city, and needed to be somewhere with open space and affordable horse facilities. My trainer at the time had been urging me toward Andalusians, but the one we made an offer on was bought out from under me. Then, a month before I moved west, we found an ad for a pair of Lipizzan fillies. One was 3, one was 4. Both were just started under saddle. And, rather considerably to the point, both were in Arizona.

I did not immediately leap on board with the idea. "But--but--ordinary human beings can't own those!" Nonsense, said Ron, and told me to call and see if we could get a video. So we called. And ordered a video to be sent to Ron, as I was moving and Things Were In Flux.

The next I heard was an e-mail from a friend who was also Ron's student: "Never mind the younger one. BUY THE OLDER ONE." I had no idea he'd even received the tape, so was a bit baffled--but then sorted it out, and made arrangements to drive up to Flagstaff and try out both fillies.

A month after the move, writerkatie and I made the five-hour drive to Flagstaff. It was a great adventure. I'd never been up to the high country before. I'd never been closer to a Lipizzan than ringside at Madison Square Garden. And here we were at a farm full of them, under the tall pines with the San Francisco Mountains in the background.

The trainer (who is now a Very Big Name in eventing--I believe she's shortlisted for Athens) was saddling up the older sister when we got there. I took one look at this pretty white face and these big dark eyes and that was it. It was all over. When I got on to ride her, I was doomed.

Now mind you it was not the sort of ride you read about in fantasy novels by writers whose entire experience of horses comes from movies and books (most of them also written by people with zero experience). She was green, rough, and not all that well started. Her saddle was too narrow, and was sitting on her neck. And I had been riding a very big, very old Dutch Warmblood whose definition of a light aid was right off the volume charts for a Lipizzan.

Basically, we hit orbital velocity. For about five minutes. Then we started to get it together. At this point, the conversation at ringside went like this: "There's a click." "Yep. It's a match."

I bought her on the spot. Never even tried the other filly, though I saw her ridden and agreed that she was very nice. (After a lengthy saga of her own, she is now in Connecticut, being the light of a dear friend's life.) We were able to get her vetted that afternoon--and at the clinic, she was pulling away from her trainer to press against me when things got scary. The vet rated her healthy. "Her back's too long and her feet are a bit flat, but she's sound." All working parts were installed and running as they should.

It was two weeks before she could be delivered to Tucson. Two very, very long weeks. Then a fairly long few months while I discovered just how different Lipizzans are. All my decades of horse skills were worth exactly nothing. I was starting all over again with a new species. We had a rough ride for a while until I finally got a fraction of a clue--and Capria, being young (she was only four) and scared and a bit angry at the world, had her own attacks of frustration, some rather dangerous. 1100 pounds of sentient missile, you know. There are shoers in town who still make the sign of the cross when her name is mentioned, and the manager/trainer I had at the time remembers her with a lot of bad words.

Luckily we lived through it. Also the colic attacks, the time her hindquarters stopped working (and we discovered the joys of equine acupuncture), the great breeding adventure (resulting in ze keed, the one and only and that is it, says Capria), the Hock Problems, the discovery that she does not travel well (including the Pigeon-Fever Incident), and many other alarums and excursions.

She is now, at sixteen, sound, sane, and beautiful. The little dappled-grey filly with the big feet and the cinderblock head grew into a swan. Her back is still long; it's a training issue at times, and it's the reason why one of my breeding goals is to breed Lipizzans with short backs (since mostly the breed tends toward sausages). She is not the worldbeater of a mover that my young stock are, and she has no desire whatever to make babies for the breed--rather too bad really, as she has beautiful bloodlines, pure Spanish Riding School; her great-grandfather was the last horse Podhajsky trained to the High School, and her grandfather was the first Grand Prix horse in Arizona.

And yet she is one of the prettiest horses you will ever see, a lovely and fluid mover, and the best lesson pony in the world. She's a challenge to ride, not because she's difficult or dangerous, but because she's a perfectionist. She's my "home horse"--the one I come to when I can't focus on anything else. Her back is home. She's here for life, of course. If I drop off the face of the earth tomorrow, there will be duels at dawn over her--she has many, many friends--but as long as I'm on the planet, this is where she stays.

Her name btw is pronounced "ka-PREE-a." Part of the in-joke of ze keed's registered name, Khepera, is that it's a takeoff on the usual mispronunciation of his mother's name.

Today she had a longe--it was too hot to work very hard--and she was her usual impeccable self; and she was spoiled rotten all day, with treats, extra alfalfa, and lots of baby carrots with her dinner. I honored her by not working Camilla, who is her rival as Dressage Mare and she resents it (she shouldn't, but hey; after all), though I did ride da Pook (whom she also loathes, but he's a mere and piddling stallion, so that wasn't quite so bad).

Capria is the heart of DHF. Carrma rules the breeding program (and pretty much the whole rest of the universe as well), and the kids have their own parts to play, but the place is really about Capria. After all, she was the First.

Further notes on the day

Wanted to note that part of dinner was my favorite salad in the world. Slice a nice ripe tomato or two and arrange on a plate. Cut up small pieces of fresh mozzarella (sold as "Ovolini" or "Boconcini") and arrange over tomatoes. Top with chopped fresh basil. Squeeze a lemon over to taste. Drizzle on some extra-virgin olive oil. Season with salt and pepper. Savor.

The name of this salad is, appropriately enough, Caprese.

Also wanted to note that after Capria's birthday carrots and hug, da Pook got in line for a regularly scheduled ride. We started in the arena, working on this and that, but as the sun went down, we decided to go out for a mosey.

He was wonderfully relaxed. No jiggies. No freakouts about getting back to his mares. He wandered down the road for a while, then wandered back. I wish we could have stayed out longer, but it was getting dark.

Stallion as trail pony. I like it. We actually stood in the middle of the road, where he's usually all a-snort and a-hop, and had scritchies and sugar and just hung out. Then moseyed on home.

And now it's a beautiful moonlit night, with pellucid sky. The horses are stunning in the moonlight: white marble in motion. Capria will get more carrots and hugs before bed, you can be sure.