In my junior year of college, I was given a piece of advice that would change my life forever.
It was the final day of the Collegiate Horsemen’s Association’s Annual Conference, and about a hundred or so horse-obsessed college students milled about after one of those panels where industry professionals share their wisdom.
At the time, I was a student at Colorado State University, a school renowned for its Equine Science Program and Reproduction Center.
I was an English major, but I spent a lot of my time with the horse girls. Class was all about Jonathan Swift and writing beautiful sentences. Outside of it I got to learn what to do if a mare red-bags and how to check a saddle to make sure it fits as correctly as possible.
My life on campus was magical. It was 2010, however, and we were still in the throws of the Great Recession. Uncertainty loomed for the future of both students like me and the horse industry itself.
Despite the turmoil, my great ambition then was to write for a horse magazine. I knew it wasn’t going to be easy, so with the fervor one only has when they don’t know any better, I tracked down every bit of insight I could find to make that happen.
Here is where the memory gets fuzzy.
I don’t remember the editor’s face or her name. I think she worked for a Quarter Horse publication, but even typing that makes me a bit queasy, like it isn’t right. On top of that, I don’t recall what prompted her to share this wisdom or if she gave me advice personally or if it was offered to the whole panel.
I can tell you what she said, because that stuck: “If you want breeders, ranchers, vets, or anyone else to take you seriously, you need to know what it is like to feedstock when it is ten below zero.”
It was like a bell went off in my brain. There was something about it that rang true and I knew I needed to act on her words as soon as I could. So, a few moments after the conference I called up one of the breed farms we had recently toured and started volunteering two nights a week.
From that moment of sheer hubris that still baffles me today, my life with horses took off.
It’s back-to-school time again, and social media posts of kids going off to college fill my feeds. As I watch students unload their stuff on campus, I see an 18-year-old me putting my old cowboy boots in the dorm closet, wondering if I will ever need them again.
So here is my unsolicited advice to all of those young people out there wondering if a career with horses or even just a life with them in it is worth your time. The answer is yes, it is—even if it isn’t forever and even if it doesn’t turn out like you hoped.
I realize that some anxious parents might be reading this essay as well. What the heck are people going to gain from taking part in an activity with an animal that is expensive, time-consuming, antiquated, and possibly lethal?
Well, dear reader, I will tell you.
The first thing I got from horses was hustle.
For a couple of years, I volunteered at the fall festival of a dude ranch. My friend and I helped tack up a string of horses first thing in the morning. We led pony rides, shovelled manure, headed the draft horses for hayrides so the driver wasn’t alone and did any other task the owners brought us.
I learned then that I like hard work and often that labor led to things like gallops through meadows and bareback riding up mountains.
The more willing I was to join in with the chore at hand the more respect I got and the more friends I made. Whether it’s cowboys or dressage queens, the phrase “Yes, I will help you unload the hay wagon” translates to “I love you.”
There are two virtues common on a horse property but rare in the world; one is a self-starter, and the other is busting butt with a grin on your face. Working around horses taught me both and kept me employed, both in the barn and out of it.
My equine education sharpened my people skills, too.
Horse people are, to put it delicately, “passionate eccentrics.” While the level of crazy may vary from person to person and organization to organization, it is always present. You are going to disagree with, offend, and even alienate most equestrians in your life, and they will do the same with you.
Because the horse world is small and often overlaps, it has been in my best interest to find common ground and see the humanity in the other person as often as I can.
I have lost track of how many times I have heard someone say, “Gross, how can you talk to [insert name]? They believe [insert appalling idea].” In response, I usually just shrug, “Because ponies.”
It doesn’t make sense out of context. Nevertheless, in the current climate of political, social and cultural divisiveness, most equestrians know how to build bridges.
It is good to follow your crazy dreams when you are young, foolhardy and bounce better, too. It’s easier to figure to out what you are good at and what you are willing to put up with before the responsibilities pile up.
There is hay in my bra as I write this. I am watching a friend’s farm for a week. While I find it nourishing for my soul to do this every now and again, my allergies remind me why I am grateful that I can pay someone else to feed my steed.
I learned early about the gruelling, endless, often lonely work of a horse farm. While I know how rewarding it can be, I’m glad I got to find out that I needed horses in my life, but I did not need the farm.
It has been 15 years since that conference. Taking that editor’s advice changed my life and in ways that I didn’t expect. I knew I would learn a lot about horses. I had no idea how much I would learn about myself.
We equine-obsessed people are lucky—we have something that spurs our joy into a gallop, and so many people never know the feeling.
So even if the show season of life takes you to places far away from equines, pursuing a career or even just more experience with them is worth it in countless ways. Heck, even if being young is far in the rearview mirror, sign up for that lesson, volunteer at that rescue, and ask that horse-crazy coworker to show you around.
You never know what you will learn next.