A Lifetime With Horses, by Sheila Varian, featured in Jan. 2009 Arabian Horse Times

Looking back to January 2009

A LIFETIME WITH HORSES, by Sheila Varian

A Lifetime With Arabians

The Wisdom And Wonder Of Old M ares

by Sheila Varian

I have that runs fro m a small country road up to the top a hill on a long, gen of tle slope. It has goo d native grass, and thought that with 45 I acres, they could kee p far enough apart that they wouldn’t be hurting one ano the r. We had bred Starlyn and checke d her in foal, but at that time we weren doing a lot of pregna ’t ncy checking; so, all I really noticed as the months went by was that they were hea lthy, the two were not friendly and had little to do with eac h other.

Then I was out che cking the 45 acres one morning, and saw the two mares I together up on the top of the hill. I wa wondering what the s y were doing there tog ether when I saw this tiny little foal— and I thought Oh, Arabian Horse Tim my God, Starlyn has es has invited me to foaled. But could I write about things get near them? No learned through the pe. Not in their life I’ve years that I’ve lived So, I got my binocu time. lars and lay in the gra with horses. I got my first horse when I wa ss, trying to tell if the baby was okay. The s 8—Judy, a 16-han d Morgan/Percher tro ubl e cross for my dad to wa s, wh ene on ver I put my head hunt deer on—and would hear all this up I I’ve been looking at snorting, and I was them with curiosity thinking, the y could and amusement eve over the hill and dow go r n sin int ce. o some rough countr y!

With foaling season They’ll have that baby down the coming, I’ve been thi re and it will never nking about the old mares that I’ve get out. So, I left and known. We raise ho went back to the bar rses in domesticated n, trying to figure it ways, but we should out. I couldn’t. n’t ever forget that Two or three times the wild genes are a day, I would go to still there, and under the pasture and try standing that can ma to call them. I used grain, laid out hay, ke for an amazing education. Years ago sat quietly hoping , I saw this very cle would get used to they me. Nothing worke arly with a couple mares named Starly of d. They wouldn’t let n and Shellah. me within 200 yards of them. I could see Starlyn was a tall, ran that the baby was moving, but I couldn gy, chestnut Half-A ’t tell if it was a filly rabian owned by a young girl named or colt.

Candy, who had bee Three days went by n a like this, and then teenager when she and Starlyn spe it clouded up to rain nt most of their tim I was beside myself . e together, and the , worrying about tha apparently had bee re t baby up there in the n some tension. It rain .

I we nt out to the 45 acres hadn’t been the bes match, and Starlyn again to see if I cou t was a nervous, hys out a new approach. ld figure terical mare—but the I didn’t have a halter so was Candy her n, or rope with me, owner. When Starly and I stood down at n got the gate, wondering to be 19 or 20, Candy decided to what I was going breed her. Starlyn had to do. Suddenly, wa y up on top of the never had a baby, and was pretty distru hill, Shellah perked her head up and her stful of most everyt hing. ears swept forward.

Meantime, Shellah She looked straight at me and down the was a smallish bay mare, a daughter of hill she trotted. Sta Ferseyn. I didn’t ow rlyn was attached n her; she boarded to She llah ’ s sid e like here. Shellah didn’t a burr in a dog’s hai other horses, she did like r, and the baby was attached to her. She n’t like any people, she didn’t like gettin llah kept trotting to up in the morning, g me, not a hesitation and she didn’t like Sta rly n following Shellah like , going to bed at nig Mostly, she didn’t like a foal, with her bab ht. her as the rain beg y following much of anything. an to come down.

Starlyn was similar because she was so She llah didn’t hesitate, distrustful and worrie didn’t slow down, but d, which made it trotted right to me hard for her to like and stopped anybody or anything in front of me, Starly either. The differenc n right next to her. was she didn’t kno My heart nearly e w why. Both of the stopped beating. m were bossy, Shellah because that’s who she was, and Starly Qu ietl y, I slip ped n because she expect off my belt and pu something bad to hap t it around Starlyn’ ed neck, and led her out pen. s the gate and across Since neither mare the road, with the baby at her side. We had a great temper ament for being wit headed to the barn, other horses, I put h and with a sigh of them by themselves relief, I put Starlyn in a 45-acre pastur into a clean, dry, str e aw-filled stall. And Shellah? She turned on her heel and wa 276 lked off in the other

Beginning with

this new year,

Arabian Horse Tim es

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• January 2009

A Lifetime With Arabians The Wisdom And Wonder Of Old Mares

by Sheila Varian

Beginning with this new year, Arabian Horse Times has invited me to write about things I’ve learned through the years that I’ve lived with horses. I got my first horse when I was 8—Judy, a 16-hand Morgan/Percheron cross for my dad to hunt deer on—and I’ve been looking at them with curiosity and amusement ever since.

With foaling season coming, I’ve been thinking about the old mares that I’ve known. We raise horses in domesticated ways, but we shouldn’t ever forget that the wild genes are still there, and understanding that can make for an amazing education. Years ago, I saw this very clearly with a couple of mares named Starlyn and Shellah.

Starlyn was a tall, rangy, chestnut Half-Arabian owned by a young girl named Candy, who had been a teenager when she and Starlyn spent most of their time together, and there apparently had been some tension. It hadn’t been the best match, and Starlyn was a nervous, hysterical mare—but then, so was Candy her owner. When Starlyn got to be 19 or 20, Candy decided to breed her. Starlyn had never had a baby, and was pretty distrustful of most everything.

Meantime, Shellah was a smallish bay mare, a daughter of Ferseyn. I didn’t own her; she boarded here. Shellah didn’t like other horses, she didn’t like any people, she didn’t like getting up in the morning, and she didn’t like going to bed at night.

Mostly, she didn’t like much of anything. Starlyn was similar because she was so distrustful and worried, which made it hard for her to like anybody or anything either. The difference was she didn’t know why. Both of them were bossy, Shellah because that’s who she was, and Starlyn because she expected something bad to happen.

Since neither mare had a great temperament for being with other horses, I put them by themselves in a 45-acre pasture 276

I have that runs from a small country road up to the top of a hill on a long, gentle slope. It has good native grass, and I thought that with 45 acres, they could keep far enough apart that they wouldn’t be hurting one another. We had bred Starlyn and checked her in foal, but at that time we weren’t doing a lot of pregnancy checking; so, all I really noticed as the months went by was that they were healthy, the two were not friendly and had little to do with each other.

Then I was out checking the 45 acres one morning, and I saw the two mares together up on the top of the hill. I was wondering what they were doing there together when I saw this tiny little foal—and I thought Oh, my God, Starlyn has foaled. But could I get near them? Nope. Not in their lifetime.

So, I got my binoculars and lay in the grass, trying to tell if the baby was okay. The trouble was, whenever I put my head up I would hear all this snorting, and I was thinking, they could go over the hill and down into some rough country! They’ll have that baby down there and it will never get out. So, I left and went back to the barn, trying to figure it out. I couldn’t.

Two or three times a day, I would go to the pasture and try to call them. I used grain, laid out hay, sat quietly hoping they would get used to me. Nothing worked. They wouldn’t let me within 200 yards of them. I could see that the baby was moving, but I couldn’t tell if it was a filly or colt.

Three days went by like this, and then it clouded up to rain.

I was beside myself, worrying about that baby up there in the rain. I went out to the 45 acres again to see if I could figure out a new approach. I didn’t have a halter or rope with me, and I stood down at the gate, wondering what I was going to do. Suddenly, way up on top of the hill, Shellah perked her head up and her ears swept forward. She looked straight at me and down the hill she trotted. Starlyn was attached to Shellah’s side like a burr in a dog’s hair, and the baby was attached to her. Shellah kept trotting to me, not a hesitation, Starlyn following Shellah like a foal, with her baby following her as the rain began to come down. Shellah didn’t hesitate, didn’t slow down, but trotted right to me and stopped in front of me, Starlyn right next to her. My heart nearly stopped beating.

Quietly, I slipped off my belt and put it around Starlyn’s neck, and led her out the gate and across the road, with the baby at her side. We headed to the barn, and with a sigh of relief, I put Starlyn into a clean, dry, straw-filled stall. And Shellah? She turned on her heel and walked off in the other Arabian Horse Times • January 2009

direction, perfectly happy to have Starlyn gone. Obviously, she had brought Starlyn all the way through foaling, telling her what to do and how to do it, bossy old girl that she was.

Then, when it started to rain, either she decided that it was time to move Starlyn and the baby on, or maybe she realized the foal needed to get out of the weather. Whatever. She trotted them to the bottom of the hill, right up to me.

In the days that followed, Starlyn, who hadn’t had the greatest personality, was a great mother. In the month that she was here before she and the baby were sent home, she became very sweet. On the other hand, Shellah, her job completed, went right back to being her miserable, nasty self. When it counted, she had been a good mother, doing what she needed to do, coaching Starlyn through the mystifying process of giving birth and nursing a foal. I’ve always said that Shellah, who had had many foals herself, took Starlyn by the hand.

Young Horses Become Old Horses I owned my mare Ronteza from the time she was 2 until she was 28. She was the mare who won Champion Reined Cow Horse in 1961 at the Cow Palace with me. No one else ever sat on her back; so, I had spent huge amounts of time with her.

When I was showing in the open shows, the Reined Cow Horse classes, most of the time I used a tie stall or tied her to the trailer. Ronteza was always looking for me, so when I came into view, she would nicker to me. She was a worrier (she always was), but she was a gentle worrier. She never paced or pawed. She never did anything outwardly, but I could always feel her tension inside when she was concerned.

When I appeared, she would greet me with a little ho-ho-hoho, very low and very quiet.

As Ronteza got older, she did what many older horses do, which is become more dependent. She recognized that she wasn’t capable of outrunning the wolf any longer or getting to the better food in a herd. Domesticated older horses look to us more to take care of them if we have been a real presence in their lives.

When Ronteza aged into her 20s, I was especially aware of her. I put her out in a grass pen, and often when I would walk by, Ronteza, who was always very, very subtle, would take her hoof and tap on the gate. Not paw. Tap. You’d hear soft little tap-tap, tap-tap, followed by this quietest little ho-ho-ho-ho.

That was her way of telling me, “Sheila, I have somewhere I want to go.” I had always led Ronteza without a halter by putting my hand on the top of her neck between her ears, and she would drop her head and go wherever I directed her to go, but as she got older, she gave more direction, so when I put my hand between her ears, we would go where she wanted to go. When she took me to her destination, she would stop, and I would go on about my business. I put out a wheelbarrow with a little hay in it so she could eat, and we could leave her free on the ranch.

Arabian Horse Times • January 2009

“My feeling about my horses is this: They have taken care of me with the babies they produced, their winning in the show ring, and making me happy chasing cattle on ranches. When they are old, it is my responsibility to take care of them, with good feed, grass and friends.”

We didn’t have gates to the road on the ranch at that time, so every once in a while, we’d see Ronteza stop, and all of a sudden, her head would come up, her ears would come forward, and we’d know that she had decided she was leaving. That was at a time when I had apprentices, and we all knew what was about to occur. Ronteza had decided she was running away from home. That’s what we called it.

Out the drive she would go briskly, with us dashing after her, because we knew by Ronteza’s brisk walk that she was running (or more accurately, walking) away from home. I would be jumping fences to get ahead of her. She would see me and stop, and I would put my hand between her ears and we would walk back home again together.

We humored Ronteza as we do with old beings. We’d watch her and when she wanted more hay or another field or decided to run away from home, we would let her lead us to her new destination, although the running from home we kept an eye out for. She would come home happily, and we would go back to her old routine, wherever and however she wanted it to be.

A horse survives until it is 13 or 14 in the wild, but now we keep them until they pass away, which can be 25 or 30.

My feeling about my horses is this: They have taken care of me with the babies they produced, their winning in the show ring, and making me happy chasing cattle on ranches. When they are old, it is my responsibility to take care of them, with good feed, grass and friends. Therefore, horses will tell you many things if you listen, and the more time you spend with them, the more they will tell you about themselves.

Possibly a life lesson in there, don’t you think?

Sheila Varian of Arroyo Grande, Calif., has bred, trained and shown Arabians for more than half a century. Now in its ninth generation, the Varian Arabians program has produced a dynasty of English pleasure champions in the national show ring, and over the years has been known for its park, western, and halter titlists as well. Sheila’s own record includes U.S. and Canadian National Championships in a variety of divisions, and in the broad spectrum of the horse industry, induction into the Cowgirl Hall of Fame in 2003. Her techniques for socializing and training horses are based on the “soft approach” of the legendary Tom Dorrance, with whom she worked early in her career.

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