Through Mala's Eyes: Firefly Alights at the Malsteads

Ponies dominate the Malstead hobby farm. Greg teases me that I am a "pony snob, as I have waxed long and eloquent arguments why we should have larger four legged beasts. It just so happens that all our Leg Up rescues to date have been ponies. I actually bought Shadow, so he is our only horse. And he is a small horse, just 14 hands. All the kids are outgrowing the ponies, as our three girls are already as tall as I am. Well, Abbi is almost as tall as me.

Ponies are perfect for the disabled riders, being small, they are less intimidating, They are great for the rescued girls, for the same reasons. But for horse lovers who really enjoy riding, horses are best. Rachael, our second daughter, has proven over the years her talent and affinity for horses.

When Leg Up volunteers are scarce its Rachael and Abbi who step up and do the feeding, the mucking and the watering, the training, and the exercising. Of course I flit and float, filling in the gaps when they are busy at school, but then getting distracted by other things, I constantly move onto more pressing projects and the idea of the hour. So, I have relied on them, we all have, to do the constant daily chores. Four legged beasts are no joke. The work they create is ever- evolving.

Rachael and I weren't the only ones who longed for something bigger. Leg Up volunteers expressed the same hope. "Can't we rescue something bigger?" Maybe its on the same scale as climbing larger and larger mountains. We humans always want more challenge. Life should never be easy, right?

And so, the long awaited day came. Rachael, Abbi, Pete and Kristin (Leg Up volunteers), our Freedom Firm driver, Susi, and a local Ooty horse agent and I, traveled down to Coimbatore (a city three hours away). Threading our way through the sprawling city, and out again into the parched countryside, we traveled out to a horse farm.

Tied to a tree with half a dozen Tamil children hanging around him, stood a cappuccino colored colt. Already 15 hands high, he was still only 18 months old. Check, we wanted something big. A pure Marwari (an ancient Indian breed traditionally used for war), his perfectly tipped ears swiveled inward, the tips touching perfectly. Check, we wanted a Marwari.

"No riding, mam," the owner stated, meaning he was unbroken. Cross, no way, I don't want something this wild. Can Rachael really break a horse from scratch?

Rachael was already standing on the log in front of him. He was snaking his head back and forth at the children around him, ears flat back , teeth snapping. Cross, he is vicious. That quality wasn't on the most wanted list. We had clearly specified beforehand he had to be gentle.

The owner untied the lead rope and dragged him by a collar around his neck a few paces from us. He plunged around bucking and rearing. We gasped, he was truly a beautiful specimen. This was no rescue operation. Unless rescuing him from a potential future of starving and beating and breaking with spiked bits count as rescue. Check. We always dreamed of something really gorgeous. He was far more "horse" than we have ever had in the last 5 years. He made my Shadow look like a nag.

I looked back at Rachael. She was very quiet, watching him intently. Oh no, she is falling for him. They tied him back to the tree. Rachael and Abbi persisted in attempting to touch his nose. Ears pricked forward (finally), and he began exploring their hands with his mouth. Nibbling them but not biting. Suddenly the fear died in his eyes and he was all curiosity, nosing, tasting, touching them. I doubt anyone had interacted that way with him before. A slight movement of their hands towards his ears, and he would snap forward, ears plastered back, teeth barred. His eyes blinked spasmodically as he shied away expecting to be hit.

"Mom, I like him. I really like him." Oh Rach, I don't know, how can we manage him. What if he doesn't calm down, what if he hurts someone. Fears flooded my mind. Pete and Kristen were as enraptured as Rachael.

I forced everyone to leave, and we drove an hour away where two paint mares were tied at a factory site. Just two years old (we checked the teeth) they looked like they were already thirty and had lived lives of hardship and pain. Abbi joked that they were cows, not horses. They paled in comparison to the cappuccino colored colt. Lets go back.

On the way, we negotiated the price with the owner on the phone. He dropped his asking price by a couple hundred dollars. We were pleased. At the same time I felt we needed to do more shopping, needed to be sure. So, we decided to look at another horse back in Ooty. But I could tell Rachael's heart was set, and that nothing else would do.

On the way home she named him Firefly. Apt, there is a whole lot of fire in this horse. Back in Ooty, we checked out another 18 month Marwari. Again, Firefly came out on top, by a long shot. We made a final decision and called the owner again. Although we had settled on a price, the owner wiggled and bartered, argued and cajoled, said he had another buyer, etc etc, and in the end we had to pay a bit more, but it wasn't too bad. We went through several tense days before we reached an agreement.

Pete was the hero, and traveled, with the agent back down to Coimbatore in an open pickup truck to collect Firefly. He sat in the driving rain all the way back to OotyMarwari, Firefly.

Rachael's quiet joy (because Rachael is quiet) shines out, radiant, assured, confident that she can tame this beast. A month has gone by. She is using the Parelli technique of training. He is dead smart and learns the games easily. He has stopped attacking all the other ponies, and knows his place in the pecking order now.

He ran away with Shadow the first night after he arrived. Greg found him in the forest 7 km away from us, abandoned by Shadow, completely lost and bewildered. Greg said he was just a big baby and stood there waiting to be caught. He stood, head in Greg's arms, for an hour in the pouring rain while they waited for reinforcements, in the form of Kavi and her friends.

He no longer lunges at us with his ears back and flails at us with his hooves. Slowly, slowly he is relaxing, realizing we aren't going to hurt him. He is changing, gentling, trusting. He has soul-bonded with Rachael, and completely adores her.

These days are the kid's summer vacations, and Rachael spends hours a day with him. Brushing, bathing, trying to desensitize him, leading him on walks for succulent grass. We have many months before training him for riding, so there is lots of time for the relationship to grow and strengthen. As I watch them, my own teen age years spent with horses flashes before me, and I am thrilled that my daughter can have this joy too.

Our horses and yes, ponies, have another purpose besides our own great delight. And while there is no guilt at all associated with having them purely for our own pleasure and benefit, they are there for therapy for our rescued girls and for local disabled children as well. See http://www.legupindia.org/

Our horses, ponies and rescued girls will soon feature in a documentary by Ben Stamper. Check out this project to be filmed in September!