04/24/2024
Today, I am going to tell Duchess’ story and it is not an easy one. I am doing this to remember her and also to share, because I think Duchy has something to teach us.
Hard lessons are not quite as terrible if, in the end, we have learned something vital about life.
But here I am, getting ahead of myself. We’re going to go all the way back to 2013, which is graven in my memory for two reasons. The first, is that it was the year of the great flood in High River—aptly named, as it turned out—the second, is that I’d been busy looking for a new young Welsh pony to bring into my program.
As a trainer of smaller equines, the holy grail is taking in a youngster, having it train to a level that you can send it on, either as a competitor for international combined driving, or as a talent for the pony hunter world. Akin to sending your boy to the NHL, it puts you on the map. You can be proud of your efforts and yes, let’s face it, such ponies will pay your bills.
Rosegarland Royal Duchess had just won the Junior Champion Welsh title at the All Pony Show in Red Deer. Her picture came across my newsfeed and she was a show stopper, all right. I knew her lineage, her sire’s owner and as a bonus, the young mare lived in our province. I remember that I contacted her owner the day before our closest town had ‘the flood of the century’.
My offer to purchase was accepted all the while we were trying to find my mother from the thousands of people rescued and moved to surrounding towns, watching the familiar streets of our hometown disappear under the dirty waters of the Highwood River. For several weeks thereafter, I was not in pony buying mode but rather, in pitching in with the effort to clear out houses whose contents had been buried in river silt.
It was a heartbreaking time, made beautifully poignant by seeing the best of human nature arise. High Riverites may have been in the national news, yes, but the people who came to help were beyond heroic and caring. I promised myself that when we were done all the shoveling and dragging of wet carpets, I would travel up north to pick up the pony I’d just purchased, while all of this mayhem was going on.
When I finally met Duchess and her breeder, I was not disappointed. The young filly was everything I’d been promised. Beautifully conformed and very well handled, it was obvious that Duchess had been bred and raised with nothing but planning and love.
This is not unusual when we choose to buy horses and ponies—or puppies, for that matter—from reputable, caring breeders. In good programs, the trainability and tractability matters, every bit as much as the animal’s conformation.
Because I almost always have at least one ‘hard luck’ horse or pony on hand to pay my own good fortune forward at all times, bringing in those who have been planned for and cared for, since before their birth, is a real treat. Duchess was going to be pure pleasure.
And for a while, she was.
The 13:2 hand Section B Welsh mare was a beautiful dappled grulla colour, with four stockings and a blaze on her face. She had a lovely smooth, flat way of trotting that brought the promise of her stills, her posed photographs, to life. She was quality, in both looks and temperament, and I could hardly wait to begin her schooling.
All through her lungeing, ponying, ground driving and early riding, Duchy was easy. I had only to show her what I wanted her to do and she said, “All right. Let’s!”
I have only memories of a willing and relaxed pony, doing her best to please me. She did not buck, or balk, or shy out. It was almost as though an existing knowing was deep within her DNA.
She was a ‘huffer and puffer’ as she went to work, however. I remember writing in my journal that for whatever reason, Duchess was struggling getting into a breathing rhythm during the canter. Those of you who are runners will immediately understand. As we settle into the exertion of cardio exercise, our lungs will fill and empty in a rhythm with our movement.
Most horses, this comes naturally, but I remember noting that this was an area where Duchess struggled. Her canter work began to take on the aspect of a mighty little steam engine. “I think I can! I think I can! I think I can!” as she chugged along.
I can remember wondering how long it was going to take, to ride this pony to basic fitness.
She fell with me one day, while we were riding out. I didn’t worry too much about it, for she was young and perhaps not well-enough balanced to be loping out over rough pastures. The beautiful pony and I lay there, stunned for a few moments, before clambering to our feet in surprise.
Duchess went on through her training, never getting any fitter but learning all the things I’d hoped for. She went to my daughter for some low-key ranch riding. The pony proved to be afraid of cattle, which is unusual in Welsh ponies but that wasn’t a huge problem, as we had other plans. What she did receive were long, slow hours over open country, building her confidence in her new working life. It was all good.
The beautiful mare came home and helped me harrow the pony pastures and pens. She was brave, when it wasn’t about cattle. Plans were made to send her on for some training over fences. If she could drive, ride and jump, Duchess would surely live a long and charmed life, wouldn’t she? Turns out, she fell while she was away in training, too… and always, at the canter.
An alarm bell was beginning to jangle in the back of my mind. Duchess was five years old. I’d owned her since she’d turned two. I’d done all of her training and yet, I was watching something unfold that I did not, as yet, understand. Slowly, slowly, I watched my confident, sensitive, charismatic young mare begin to unravel. Where once there had been a knowing look in her eye, she began to look panic-stricken. Trapped.
More and more often, when we were together, her eyes would have a frightened look and her respirations were as though she’d been galloping. More and more, Duchess was dwelling in the realm of flight or fight. Something was very wrong... but what?
I took her to my trusted equine vet for a thorough work up. When he called for total silence in the examination room, as he searched for the heart and lung sounds, it suddenly became clear to me. I did not need to hear his final diagnosis to know that this beautiful, talented, kind young pony was missing the one thing that would really matter.
Something was terribly wrong with her heart.
When it was explained to me that I must never again ride or drive her, or allow her to become overly excited lest she pass out or fall on anyone, I knew that this was one thing that I could not promise. Instead, the hard decision was made to lay Duchess to rest right then and there, in caring hands and with our loving voices in her ear.
In the end, all my big plans, all my care and training, all the hopes and dreams riding along on that lovely pony were for nought.
I’m sharing Duchess’ story because while heart conditions are not a common health issue in horses, she was the second I’ve personally had with this affliction. Both were similar in that they showed abnormally high respirations, whilst their energy levels and reactiveness also spiked and waned, without reason. They would go from overwhelming lethargy, to absolute panic and terror.
I’ve since seen two students’ horses come for lessons, where I’ve called a halt to their warm ups and advised them to have their horses’ hearts checked. Sadly, with the same results. So, it happens and while I'm still saddened, I’m also grateful for the information and experience that Duchess gave me. She made me a better, more knowledgeable horsewoman, all the while she broke my heart.
Knowing horses can give us many valuable life lessons and this may be the most important one of all. That no matter how careful we are, how in control we strive to be, we are only along for the ride…
This is what Duchess taught me. Though her life was all-too-brief, she deserves to shine brightly among the Keystone stars.
Photo: Karen Podolski.
