24/09/2025
The time has come to write a remembrance for Digby, and I am dreading it. It feels awful to have to speak of him in the past tense. Yesterday, we sent Digby back to rejoin the energy of the Universe. Back to David. Back to the Earth.
Although we had planned this day for some time, and Digby was an estimated 30 years old, saying goodbye to a friend never gets any easier. In the 7 years that I knew him, no other horse had been more steadfast, more reliable, more helpful in the day to day running of our program.
Digby gave confidence and joy to people having their first ride. He ushered my working students down their first centerlines, and was often a favorite of judges. Trained to at least PSG, Digby knew when to turn on his best gaits, and when to trot like school horse moonlighting in western pleasure. If you teach, you know how exceedingly rare it is to find a horse who can teach a nervous 40 lb 8 year old one day, and teach a 22 year old her first flying changes the next. When the cancer reached David's brain, and he was unsteady in his body, his thoughts adrift, Digby was the only horse we entrusted to carry him. Digby was David's last ride.
But not only was Digby an intrepid school master, he also helped each new horse that came in for training. When young Elton arrived fresh from the Helgstrand auction, so anxious that he tried to jump out of his stall whenever another horse left to work, it was Digby that was turned out with him first. Digby reminded him how to graze, led by example with peace and calm as other horses came and went. Elton followed Digby step for step that first week, matching his body language. And when it was time for each baby horse just started under saddle to take their first hacks, Digby was there. From 4 year old Chloe 7 years ago, to most recently young River, he's had young horses spook, scoot, chew his tail (although rarely after a stern glare), run headlong into his hind end, rub on him, bump him sideways, and through it all, he just continued leading the hack, breaking stride only to gently admonish his young charge, or glance back at them to ensure they were still with him.
Digby had a peaceful patience that I think could heal the world, if only more of us could experience it. But he also loved a good roll, and if you caught him in the morning, at about 55 degrees in fall or spring, you could see him do a lap of the pasture, adding a few bucks and clean changes wherever suited him.
Horses like Digby are rare. I am always imploring my students to look for a horse with the calm countenance, that they can actually ride and enjoy themselves, rather than constantly questioning, or keeping their trainer's job secure. Digby was endlessly generous, I think perhaps because he was saved at 15 when he was rescued, emaciated to the point of near total organ failure. He spent 6 weeks at the state hospital restarting his gut. I think when he made his home here at Lake o' the Woods, he also made it his mission to find comfort, joy, and give back. You may say I am anthropomorphizing, but you didn't know Digby like I did. I hope some day, you enjoy the partnership of a horse like him. We should all be so lucky.
To the best of boys, truly: Rest in peace, and give our love to David.
